Back to the beginning
by rome81
Summary: A Christian and Syed story. This is the story of the beginning of Chryed. It starts the night before Bushra's party, with Syed, unable to sleep. I'll rate it M, because hey, it's me, so I'll get there in the end ;-
1. Chapter 1

**I have been suffering from writers block lately. In order to get over that, I decided to go back. Back to the beginning of Chryed. So this is my version of how it all started. It's the night before the first kiss, and Syed can't seem to get any sleep...**

**~s~c~**

Eight minutes past 4. The red digits of the alarm clock seem to be mocking me. With a groan, I close my eyes. I try to relax, knowing that that is the only way I'm ever going to get any sleep. I've been lying here, wide awake, since I got to bed just before midnight. Wanted to get a good nights sleep. Wanted to be fit and rested for the big function. With a frustrated growl, I flip on my back and stare at the ceiling.

This is great. Just what I need. Absolutely no sleep for three nights now. I've told myself it's the heat. I've told myself it's Amira. Mum and Amira. Dad and Amira. I haven't been able to convince myself though. I know what this sudden insomnia is about. It's about him. Christian.

When I close my eyes, he is there. I see him as he was this morning. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Hot. Tanned skin, eyes hidden behind a pair of dark shades and that ridiculously tacky gold chain around his neck. Tight fitting jeans and a brown vest, arms on show. Apparently I like that. Apparently I like that a lot.

I've been feeling confused. Like I don't know myself anymore. Don't know what I want, what I am, how I feel or who I am. Yes, I've felt attracted to men before. But not like this. Never like this. This constant need to see him, be near him, talk to him, talk about him or even just speak his name. I need anything. I want everything. But I promised myself that part of my life was over. Swore I would leave it behind if my parents ever invited me back into their lives. And now they have. I can't do something that could potentially compromise my relationship with them. I won't.

So here I am. Infatuated with that man since the first time I laid eyes on him. I can hardly remember it, but I know I made a fool of myself. Mumbling something stupid and wearing that monstrous hat. I saw him, and felt a tiny stir of butterflies. I shook his hand, and the butterflies went nuts.

The best thing to do would have been to stay away. Ignore this man, repress these feelings. So I tried. I tried, and I failed. It wasn't all my fault. I couldn't stay away from him completely, we had to work together. But I guess I didn't have to hang on his every word. And perhaps there was no need to watch him all day long. Laughing at his jokes, being friendly, getting him coffee, drink in the very sight of him. But I just can't seem to help myself. I'm like a schoolgirl with a crush.

I don't know how this happened. Finding Amira was supposed to solve everything. She was supposed to be my answer to all questions. No one would suspect me of lusting after men, when I had her on my arm. Men would envy me. My family would be proud of me. And I would be happy, because I found myself the perfect girlfriend. We would get married, have children, be this perfect little family. Meanwhile, I would work my fingers to the bone, working my way up in the world, until I was a huge success. And then I would have everything. There would be no need for anything else. Because I'ld already have everything.

I was so sure that it would be enough. I would be loved. I would be respected. But now… I'm just not sure anymore. The way Amira has interacted with my family has disappointed me. The way I feel about her has disappointed me. She fits the picture perfectly. She's beautiful, comes from a well respected family, she has class and she makes me laugh. I like her. I was sure that that would be enough. That my feelings would grow, develop into something more. But it hasn't. I'm not attracted to her. Kissing her, feels like kissing a good friend. Touching her, feels like touching my sister. It's nice. And truth be told, it was enough. It was enough, until I saw him.

Amira. When I think of her, my lips form into a fond smile. When she takes my arm, it gives me a warm, comfortable feeling. When she looks to me for support, I want to take care of her. When she's looking particularly pretty, I want to take her hand, and show her off to the world. Do you see her? That's my girlfriend! She makes me feel proud. Protective. Confident. Needed. I like the person I am when I'm with her. And I like the looks people give me, when she's standing beside me. Like I'm important. Someone to be envied. Like I matter.

Christian. I feel betrayed by my own body every time I'm near him. When we're working together at the unit, I am drawn to him. I keep finding an excuse to 'accidently' touch him. Brushing against him while reaching for some ingredient. Grabbing for a knife at the same time he is, so our hands touch. Turning around suddenly, in the hopes of bumping into him. He must think me a clumsy fool. But I don't care. All I care about, is that tingling feeling that rushes over me, every time I feel his touch.

Christian. He has no idea. He thinks we are becoming friends. He talks to me, laughs with me, touches me. Touches me like he touches everyone. It doesn't mean anything to him, I realize that. He doesn't know, that all I want, is for him to claim me. To shove me up against that damn fridge and kiss me until my lips are bruised. I want him to rip off my clothes and…

No. No no no no no. No. I summon up every bit of willpower I have left, and try and force an end to this train of thought. I won't go there. I can't. My body is so flushed right now, I can't bare the touch of the sheet that is covering me. I shove it down, and welcome the slightly cooler air on my heated skin. I concentrate on breathing, forcing my breath, my heart, my body, to calm down.

This cannot go on. I can't live like this. It was bad enough before. Watching him, knowing he would never be mine. I would see him with some bloke, flirting, and my jealousy would be suffocating. Wanting it to be **me**. Longing for him to look at **me** that way. Pining for him to touch **me** like that. But difficult though it was, I could handle it. Knowing it meant nothing, just a flirt, a one night stand, here today, gone tomorrow. But now there's this… James…

James scares me. He is no one night stand. They've known each other for years. And Christian cares about him. I can tell. The thought of Christian with him, James, started this frustrating insomnia. And even though it seems that nothing happened, I am not at all appeased by this. Because who can resist Christian for long? When he puts the charm on, he attacks the senses. I've seen him do it. And when they get together (that's when, not if) it will not be for a fling. And this is what is killing me. What is keeping me awake. The flings, I can live with. The flirting, I can suffer through. But to see Christian in love? To see him fall in love with anyone other that me? I really don't think I can take it. But what choice do I have?

I glance at the alarm clock. It's almost 5. I decide to give up on sleep for now and get up. Quietly, I make my way to the bathroom for a very long shower. I lean back against the cool tiles, while I let the tapped water slither down my skin. It feels good. Really good. Too good. My treacherous mind flashes me images of Christian, naked, wet. Christian's hands, tracing the path of the water down my body with his fingers. His fingers followed by his mouth, his tongue, his teeth. A whimper escapes my lips. And then I give in. I give in to the sensation, and let my hand travel down my body, my chest, my belly, until it enfolds my throbbing cock. A few quick strokes is all it takes, and I feel a temporary release of tension slip through me. And although my hunger has been satisfied for now, I know I must see him. I want to see him. Now. But I can't. It's the middle of the night.

While drying my hair, I try to figure out what is the earliest hour I can feasibly appear on his doorstep. After much consideration, I decide on half past six. I'll make up some excuse, any excuse, using mum's recent madness over Bushra's party. I stalk back to my room and check the time. A little over an hour to wait. I take my time getting dressed. And then I sit down, and I wait.

**~s~c~**

**Did you enjoy this first chapter and would you like to read more? Than please leave me a review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to all who left a review! As promised, here is chapter 2. It's the day of Bushra's party, and all is about to begin...**

**~s~c~**

It's been a weird day. Excitingly weird. Scary weird. And the day is nowhere near over. Bushra's party hasn't even started yet.

I'm at the venue. For the moment, I'm on my own. Mum and dad are still at the unit. Christian is with Amira. I'm glad for this tiny moment of reprieve, as I think back to the events of earlier this morning.

Today started with a bang. I showed up on Christians' doorstep at the crack of dawn, as planned. What I did not plan however, is for Christian to be half naked when he opened the door. I'm still amazed I managed to keep the friendly mask in place, pretty much say what I had planned to say and manage to get out without making to much of a fool of myself. Lots of practice I guess.

Oblivious to everything around me, I rushed into the unit, making it just in time for me to collapse into the closed door behind me. My trembling knees buckled underneath me and I let myself slid onto the floor, back resting against the door. My eyes saw nothing but that image of him, just out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His body looking still warm and soft from sleep, his short hair slightly ruffled.

I had wondered what it would be like. To spend the night with that man, watch him sleep and be there when he woke. What he would look like in the morning. Now I know. And I wouldn't forget it in a hurry. Even though I resisted the urge to let my eyes roam all over his naked skin, I saw enough. The image of Christian, standing before me, barely dressed, is imprinted on my brain.

Luckily, it took him a while to come in, so I could pull myself together. For a while, we worked together in contented silence. This silence only being broken by my 'oopses' and 'sorrys' as I bumped into him (twice), brushed up against him to reach for some ingredient (five times) and touched his hand while grabbing for something at the same time (sadly only once). He just smiled at me indulgently, occasionally laying a comforting hand on my shoulder in an attempt to calm me down.

I sit down on one of the chairs, close my eyes and think back to that one moment. It's like it's happening all over again, right here, right now, in front of my eyes…

**~s~c~**

_It hits me when I watch him doing the final checks. He is concentrating on his task, leav__ing me free to drink in every square inch of his body. He is fully clothed now, wearing a uniform to protect the clothes underneath. But I see him as he was this morning. I stare at the only part of him that was covered, his hips, his arse, his thighs, and try to imagine what they would look like naked. Just as tantalizing as the rest of his body, I am sure. _

_As my mind shows me images of a naked Christian, purposely coming towards me, skin tanned and smooth, glistening with sweat, muscles visibly rolling and flexing underneath, my lips part and my breath shallows. I imagine what he could do to me, what I want him to do to me, over and over again. I swallow and close my eyes. More images assault my brain. What if… What if I did the unthinkable? What if… I let my hands do exactly what they want, touch every part of that man, starting with that delectable arse. I imagine myself being bold enough to just take what I want, touch him, undress him, and touch him some more. Kiss him, slow hot kisses, turning into feverous, ravenous, devouring kisses as soon as he battles me for dominance and I happily submit. This thought wrenches a strangled cry from my lips. Horrified, I open my eyes, to see if he has noticed. I open mine, only to be confronted with the confused stare of his startlingly green eyes._

'_Syed? You ok?' he inquires softly._

_His eyes are examining mine__. I can tell he doesn't get it. He searches my face for answers. It's like I'm frozen to the spot. For a moment, I want nothing more than for him to read me, damn the consequences. But my defences have been trained for this too long. I can feel my mask slide back into place and force my lips into a friendly smile. _

'_It's nothing. I just… I was worried about mum having to sing. Have you spoken to Amira yet?'__ I marvel at my own quick thinking._

'_Not yet', he sais, while checking his watch, 'It was a bit early before, but I think I can risk it now'._

'_Would you mind going right away? It's just that I'm a bit worried if she'll go for it'._

'_Course she will! Allright, allright. I'm going!'_

'_Thanks Christian. That really means a lot'._

'_What are friends for?'_

_And with a wink, he is gone._

**~s~c~**

Back on my chair, I tell myself that was dangerously close. Too close, I berate myself. I remind myself of all the reasons why I can never, NEVER, give into these feelings. Even if I hadn't made that promise to myself, giving into my feelings for Christian would not be an option. He is in my world, my parents' world. They would find out. My heart chills at the thought.

But what if I had met him a year ago? Before they let me back into their lives? Would I have dared to approach Christian then? If I had met him, one of those few nights I ventured into a club?

No. No, I would not. Because the only thing I went looking for in those clubs, was some nobody I could forget about the next day. And Christian would never be a nobody. Not to me. And as for forgetting him the next day? Not bloody likely.

I sigh and lower my head into my hands. I've thought about this countless times. What if. Even if I did, in a moment of madness, kiss him, touch him, embrace him, what's to say he'd welcome it? Would he push me away? Laugh in my face? Look at me with understanding and pity? I swallow hard. I think that might kill me.

Or would he be pleasantly surprised? Return my advances enthusiastically? Kiss me, devour me, ravish me, shag me senseless? My body flushes at the thought, my heart races and my erection strains against my pants. I spread my legs slightly to relieve the tension. The thought of him, sprawled all over me, skin touching skin, mouths close enough to breathe each others air… His gentle fingers, caressing me, touching every part of me, stroking me, breaching me, probing me…

With a frustrated cry, I wrench my head up, straighten my back and launch myself out of the chair. Restlessly, I stalk up and down the room, forcing an end to those mind-blowing images. Is that what you want Syed? I ask myself sarcastically. For him to take what he wants from you, say 'thank you very much' and then forget all about you? Is that going to be enough for you then? You think you'll be cured from these feelings after that? I let out a bitter laugh. I know it would be torture. Seeing him every day. No more need to imagine his touch, his kiss, the feel of him inside me. I would remember. I would know exactly what it would be like. And I would want more. So much more. It would be the death of me. That is if my parents didn't find out and kill me first.

No. It is just not happening. I force the thoughts out of my head, and attempt to distract myself by the chores still at hand. The decorating is almost done, but I notice a tablecloth that is spread slightly crookedly over a table. Decisively, I straighten it and look for the next chore that needs doing. As I let my eyes wander around the room, I suddenly notice him come through the door. I almost choke on my breath. Christian. He's wearing a formal white shirt and black trousers. He looks striking. I smile and wave him over, feeling my iron resolve begin to melt already.

I suddenly think back to early this morning, standing on his doorstep.

'This is gonna be the day from hell, isn't it?' I remember asking.

I didn't know how right I was…

**~s~c~**

**If you liked this chapter and would like to read more, please leave me a review! Oh, and for those of you who have asked me for this story from Christians' POV, don't worry, I'll get there ;-)**

**I'll try and update next weekend.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Bushra's party is in full swing. Zainab has just insulted Christian with the 'Not in my faith' line. Now Christian wants to know what Syed thinks of him...**

**~s~c~**

'Syed'

He grabs my arm to stop me from leaving. My eyes flick from his hand on my arm to his questioning eyes. My inner turmoil has now reached new frantic levels.

'I wanna know what it is you think of me…'

How can he ask me that? How can I answer that? I glance over to mum and her friends.

'Now… isn't the time', I manage to get out in a desperate attempt to stall for time. Everything inside of me is screaming at me to flee. My body is tensed and poised to do just that, but his hand is still keeping me firmly in place.

'Answer me!' he demands, angrily now, trying to force an answer out of me.

'It's Haram!', I almost yell at him.

'What the hell does that mean?'

I've gone this far, so I have no choice but to follow through. I meet his stare dead on and answer his question with biting words.

'It's against God's will'.

He looks like I just struck him in the face. Hurt. Confused. Dejected. I want to take it back, soften my words, explain, but he stalks off before I can say another word.

What did I do? What did I say? And why? Why? These thoughts are turning over and over inside my overactive brain for the rest of the function. Christian left without saying another word to me. I know he went back to the unit, because he told Dad. I've been going through the motions for the rest of the day. Smiling politely at compliments about the food, my beautiful fiancée, the decorations, what a 'fine young man' I've become. I've even engaged in some meaningless chatter with several people, holding up the façade. Of course no one has mentioned Christian since he left. Best to ignore him. Best to ignore what happened. If you don't acknowledge something, it doesn't exist. That is our way. Except our way doesn't seem to fit me anymore. And I have no idea what to do about it.

Today's events have forced me to deal once again with that most difficult dilemma of all. I've listed and mulled over all the reasons why I can never be with Christian. But that most important reason, my faith, has been pushed away time and time again. Christian's questions earlier have forced the issue back to the front of my mind. Is it possible to be a Muslim and be attracted to men? The thoughts in the Muslim community on this topic seem pretty clear. It is Haram. It is forbidden. It is wrong. This is what I have been taught. I'm not even sure how, or when, or by whom. It is one of those unspoken rules that everyone seems to know about.

My faith is something I cherish. I feel it in every fibre of my being. It's like I live and breathe it. Without it, I am lost. I am no longer me. The person I am, would no longer exist.

The first time I looked at a man, and admired his appearance, it scared me. I pushed the thought away, and deliberately started to focus on girls. I think I was about fifteen at the time. I had always felt comfortable in the presence of girls. And they had sought me out since my early teens. I had of course noticed the admiring glances they stole. I kind of liked it. I admit, I even encouraged them at times. But I felt no desire to take it further. And under the guise of being 'good Muslim boys and girls' no one thought anything of it. Including me.

Of course there came a time where I had to admit it to myself. The sexy adverts and videos the other boys in my class would get exited over, watching them over and over again, did nothing for me. Yet the look of a particularly handsome classmate in the shower after gym class did not leave me unmoved. I started praying more often, started reading the Quraan whenever I had a moment, to rid me of these feelings. But to no avail. I started searching the Quraan for answers, and found none. I knew I could not talk about my feelings with anyone around me, so I tried to find some answers online, with mixed results.

In the end, I did the only thing I could to survive. I compartmentalized my life, separating my feelings about men and women from my faith. I came to an understanding with myself, that as long as I did not act on my feelings, it would be ok. It gave me some peace of mind for a time. I enjoyed life, finding fulfilment with my family, my faith, getting good grades, and making friends. Occasionally I would date a girl for a while, always making sure she was a 'good Muslim girl' of course. That way I knew I was safe.

Sometimes I would worry about the future. How would I cope with actually marrying one of these girls, and being expected to consummate said marriage? But mostly, I would push those thoughts safely to the back of my mind. I was getting quite good at that. On rare, sleepless nights, those thoughts would fight their way to my full attention. I would feel retched after a night like that, wrung out, exhausted. But I got better and better at keeping up the façade, so good even, that I would almost manage to fool myself along with the rest of the world.

So I lived my life, until the day disaster struck. The day my father lost all respect for me, and sent me away from my family, banning me from their lives. Even thinking about it now, the hot tears I'm trying to hold back almost choke me. I can still feel the utter despair of having everything I knew and loved, taken away from me, feeling powerless to stop him. I don't want to think about the desertion I felt, the loneliness. I can't think back to those days without feeling the hurt rip out my heart all over again. I would do anything to prevent that from happening again. Anything.

I look around to see that the party is almost over. Most of the guests have left already, only a handful remain. Amira had left as soon as she had seen the opportunity. I can't believe mum just 'announced' our engagement. I feel oddly conflicted about it. I've thought about marrying her of course. She seems like a perfect choice. And now that my mum finally warmed up to her, nothing should be stopping me. Except something is. Christian.

I know I must go and see him. I didn't mean to hurt him, but I did. And that was unfair of me. But what else could I do? He asked me questions I don't have an answer to. Questions I've managed to keep locked in the back of my mind for ages. Questions I've made an unconscious decision about. I won't look at them too closely. I'll ignore them. If I don't acknowledge them, they don't exist. I smirk at my own thoughts. The irony is not lost on me.

So here's my problem. I can't go to see Christian. Because he wants explanations I cannot give him. But I can't not see him. He's done nothing wrong. And I've hurt him. I guess it comes down to that. Christian, that beautiful man I can't keep my eyes off, my hands off, my thoughts off, is hurt. And it was me that caused it. How can I not go to him? I have no idea what I'll say. I have no idea what I'll do. Yes, I am scared. Yes, I have doubts and reservations. But I can't not go. And that's the end of it I guess.

Reluctantly I go and find mum. I'm not surprised to find her glued to Bushra's side once again.

'Well ladies, it seems like this party was a smash!', I say with a flash smile.

They all agree with me of course, and they go on and on about all the people that came, the food being a hit, the atmosphere lively, blah blah blah. I keep up my fake smile until I spot a small pause in the conversation and grab the opportunity with both hands.

'Mum, I see we're pretty much done here with the food. How about I take the rest of the stuff back to the unit, and you and dad take down the decorations here?'

She smiles at me gratefully and agrees.

'Don't worry about coming back to the unit after. Christian will help me clean up and we'll lock up after'.

I ignore the winces at the mention of Christian's name.

'Thank you Syed, you're a good boy', my mum sais, putting a soft hand against my cheek. I swallow back my guilt, smile back at her, and start collecting the last of the empty trays.

I have no idea what I'm going to say to Christian. I'm not even sure if he'll still be at the unit when I get there. But wherever he is, I'll find him. And say… something. I realise I'm on dangerous ground, with no idea how to keep myself safe. It's a scary thought.

**~s~c~**

**I know, I know, you all want to get to the next bit... Next week? I'll try!**


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is from Christian's P.O.V., as requested by some of you ;-). Christian is at the unit, feeling pretty angry and disappointed, especially with Syed. Cue Syed. You all know what happens next ;-)**

**~c~s~**

The loud clunks and clangs the stainless steel trays make as I stack them with unnecessary force, are oddly satisfying. Especially as I'm envisioning taking turns thumping them on the heads of first Bushra and then Zainab. Just for good measure, I slam the last of the trays with some extra zeal.

I hate them for making me feel this way. I hate myself for allowing them to make me feel this way. I don't know why, but their words, their looks, their actions, stirred something deep inside me. Something I thought resolved a long time ago. For an instant, I felt like a teenager again. Coming out for the first time. Steeling myself for the looks, the whispers, the silence. The rejection. People I considered to be my friends, turning their backs on me. People who were supposed to love me unconditionally, looking at me with disgust.

Luckily, not everyone was like that. There were plenty of people around me who actually did support me, love me, understood me and protected me. Friendships becoming stronger, family ties closer. Without them, I would not have survived. But they couldn't completely wash away the feeling of loneliness, abandonment, loss that I experienced. It took me a long time to get over that. And tonight, I discovered a small part of me that still hasn't.

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. It's not like I don't know homosexuality is still taboo for most religious people. It just never stops astonishing me, why people would care. People that have met me, talked to me, liked me, laughed with me, suddenly changing their mind about me because I like men. Why do they care? It has nothing to do with them. It won't affect them in any way. It shouldn't make a difference. But it does. The unfairness of it all bothers me much more than I'd like. I like to think I'm above things like that. Out and proud, and fuck all if you don't like it. That's about you, it has nothing to do with me. That's how I feel most of the time. Unfortunately, now is not one of those times.

As much as Bushra's and Zainab's attitudes have riled me, it's Syed that is haunting my thoughts. His rejection hurting more than anything those other two could have said or done. We've grown into this easy, comfortable, warm kind of friendship of late which I really enjoyed. I thought we understood each other. Liked, respected and cared about each other. I guess I was wrong. And that bothers me. It bothers me a lot.

Syed. Something has changed between us. Something shifted. I can't put my finger on it, but something is definitely going on. I saw it clearly in his eyes today. I felt it in the pit of my stomach. I feel like it should be obvious to me, like it's staring me in the face, but every time I try to look at it more closely, it just slips away.

I'm no longer sure why I had to know how he felt about me. It seemed so important at the time. It still does. I had to have an answer, forced him to answer me, but when he did, I couldn't handle it. His words hurt me, affected me in a way that scares me. He was trying to stall me, why didn't I let him? Why did I have to force it and ruin the easy bond that was forming between us? I should have let it rest. But I have never been a patient man. That has cost me before.

I heave a resigned sigh. Enough now. It's done, nothing I can do to change that. I square my jaw and get back to clearing away the clean dishes. I'm focusing on my motions, distracting myself with making them sharp and decisive. I'm nearly done when I hear someone open the front door and come in. Although I can't see him yet, I know it is Syed. I always know when he comes in. I'm not sure how or why, I just do. I feel bubbles of anger rising up inside of me again. I decide to ignore the bubbles along with Syed, and keep my eyes on my busy hands. Out of the corner of my eyes, I watch him come in, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped.

'Bushra's booked us for three more functions in July', he says like nothing has changed.

'Hmpf…'. The derisive sound has left my lips before I can bite it back.

'And with any luck, she'll start recommending us to her friends', he continues. Great. So we're going to pretend are we? I'm in no mood for this…

'Had some sort of bump to the head Syed? A couple of hours ago, you were all set for a public flogging'. I make no attempt to hide my hurt or my anger as I spit the words out at him.

'I'm sorry', he says quietly. I can tell my words are affecting him, but I'm not done yet.

'You can tell your mother, and her mates, that there is more to me than being some pumped up queen', I finish.

'You don't need to tell me that'. He's starting to get annoyed now.

'Don't I? So what was all that about?' I demand.

'You don't understand…' he tries, and takes a step in my direction.

'Damn right, I don't', I agree with him vehemently. But then I start to feel deflated and just want him to leave me alone already.

'Just go Syed'

'I can't'

'Why not?' My frustration builds and I just let the words pour out.

'Got what you wanted haven't you? Go on, go off, marry your little princess. Live happily ever after. I don't get you Syed. You make out like we're mates, and then you rip apart everything I stand for. What exactly is your problem eh?' I rant. Apparently he's had enough, for he turns to leave with a sigh. I won't let him though. We've come this far, and now we need to finish this, whatever this is. So I grab hold of his arm, turning him back to face me. Without giving him time to respond, I continue.

'Cause this isn't just about religion is it…'

And then it happens. I lock eyes with him, and I start to finally see the truth. All the pieces of the puzzle slowly click into place. The look in his eyes, that is not disgust. He wants me. He wants me, like I want him. Oh God yes, I want him. I want him with every fibre of my being.

As in slow motion, I watch while he parts his lips slightly and leans in. His beautiful eyes darting all over the place, like a hunted deer. Yes, so beautiful, I marvel. And then his lips touch mine and for the first time ever, everything makes sense. Just a gentle, searching kiss, but I can feel the power of it hum through my veins. He tilts his head forward, breaking our lips apart, for a moment resting his forehead against mine. Then he slowly takes a step back, keeping his eyes firmly on his feet. My hand is still on his arm, and he makes no move to free himself.

'Syed?' I ask gently. He stiffens, but other than that, makes no response. A rush of tenderness hits me like a wave while pondering the beautiful man in front of me. I want to share that feeling with him, so I cup the side of his face with my free hand, while I softly stroke the arm I'm still holding with my thumb.

'Syed?' I try again. 'Sy?', I breathe and then he looks up.

There it is again. That connection, both fragile and strong. How could I have been so blind? All the looks he gave me, the way his touches stirred something deep inside me, the need to see him, talk to him, make him laugh? It is so obvious now that I have finally admitted it to myself. And even though I've only just realised what and who it is that I want, I feel that I can wait not a moment longer. Uncertainly, I search his face. He is looking at me with a mixture of feelings. I see longing and impatience, fear, excitement and an urgent question. He is silently pleading with me to do something. And now that I am no longer blind, I know exactly what it is he wants me to do. So I stroke his cheek, and move my hand to hook behind his neck and pull him into me for a demanding kiss. A shudder rocks his entire body, before he melts into my embrace. I wrap my arms around him protectively and plunder his mouth with my tongue, encouraged by the soft cries and moans escaping his lips. There is no hesitation, no doubt. I can't remember anything ever feeling more right than this.

**~c~s~**

**I apologize for leaving you like this. I might be persuaded to update soon, if you leave me a review *bats eyelashes innocently***


	5. Chapter 5

**Back to Syed's P.O.V., lets relive that first kiss one more time ;-). This chapter is dedicated to Rhumba from DS. Hope you enjoy it!**

**~s~c~**

'Cause this isn't just about religion, is it?'

The intensity of his question is matched by the intensity of his stare. Determined to get an answer. Determined to get to the truth. I feel my resistance crumbling into nothingness. And within that moment, I know the truth. This is what I came here for. I've gotten so good at the lies, that I was unable to see the truth. But I see it now.

I know all the reasons why I shouldn't do what I'm about to do. Nothing has changed. The only thing that has changed, is my acceptance. My acceptance is apparently so great, that I have started to move into him without realising it. I can see his handsome face come closer and closer and I don't seem to be able to stop it. I want to close my eyes, afraid to see his reaction, but it's like I have no say over my own body anymore. He is like a powerful magnet, drawing me in. With that, I let go of my last reservations and softly press my lips on his.

Oh.

It is like sensation overload. I can both feel and hear my blood pumping through my veins, the feeling intoxicating, the sound almost deafening. My emotions are searing at a level where I no longer know if I want to laugh or cry, my feelings too complex to decipher. They are tangible, evoking purely physical responses. My brain has shut down, all I can do is feel. I want to both shove myself up against him, getting as close as I can possibly get, and I want to break the light but yet so intense connection of our lips at the same time. Unable to suffer the avalanche of sensations any longer, I sever our lips. The instant our connection is broken, my body yearns for reinstatement. I resist the urge to reclaim his lips, but can't help myself touching my forehead to his.

When I feel steady enough to move, I take a step back, eyes cast down. The moment the contact is broken, my brain starts to function again. I have been so focussed on my own experiences, that I have no idea of his reaction. Suddenly it is all I can think about. I want to know what Christian is thinking, what he is feeling. Or more specifically, I want to know what he is thinking and feeling… about me. I want to know, I have to know, but I'm scared. Scared to look up, into his eyes. Scared of what I might find there.

We stand there for what feels like hours. I can't move. I can scarcely breathe.

'Syed?'

The sound of him saying my name startles me. Suddenly, I am aware of his hand, still on my arm. And then his huge, warm, strong hand, is gently cupping my cheek. I fight to stay still, for all I want to do is press my cheek into his hand and purr like a kitten. An embarrassing blush colours my face. Just as I notice his thumb drawing gentle patterns on my arm, I hear him speak my name again.

'Syed?'

But still I resist the urge to look up.

'Sy?'

My name is like a mere breath on his lips. Before I can help myself, I look up. The moment our eyes connect, I feel it. No mater how wrong it may be, no matter how much I have to loose, at least I know I'm not alone. He's right here with me. It is not me, just imagining our connection. He feels it too. I relief washes over me, not exactly obliterating my jumbled emotions, but definitely blurring away the rough edges. My eyes swim, and I know I am shamelessly pleading him with my eyes. Pleading for him to take over, stop me thinking, make all the bad feelings go away and feel only the good.

I can't believe I'm opening myself up to him like this. I am a guarded person, have been forced to learn how to be that way. Always thinking before I speak, thinking even harder before I act. A convenient mask, always available to keep my true feelings hidden. Shutters at the ready, keeping everyone out. But not now. I can feel his searching eyes look deep inside me, leaving me more vulnerable than I have ever been. I suppose this should be scaring me, but amazingly, it is not. Before I can examine these feelings further, he moves his hand behind my neck and pulls me into him for a crushing kiss. Shock ripples through my body, but when the last tremor has gone, it has taken all my tension with it. I relax as he embraces me tightly and I open my mouth for his searching tongue.

No more room for thought. His presence has filled me, closing everything else out. I feel his tongue probing around in my mouth. Hesitantly, I use my own tongue to touch his. Immediately he caresses me, stroking the sides, darting around and sucking the tip softly. Hesitation is gone, and I enthusiastically play along, raising my hands up to settle in his hair and pull him even closer. My satisfied little grunts, mingling with his, are so pleasing to my ears that I can feel my toes curling. I'm sure nothing can feel better than this, until I feel him scrunch up my shirt and his hands are on my naked skin. At that contact, my breath catches in my throat. Immediately, his movements still.

'Sy? You ok? Want me to stop?' His words come between heavy pants. I shake my head violently.

'No'. It sounds more like a groan than a word to me.

Tentatively, he moves his hands over my back. I shiver at his caress, pressing my face against his shoulder to stifle my wanton cries. Encouraged by my reaction, he strokes up and down my spine gently, gradually increasing the pressure. My whole body is tingling from his touch, goose bumps all over my skin, aching to be touched. I lean into him, unashamed to let him feel how much I desire him as I thrust my hips against him. I feel a satisfied thrill as I hear his breath race and he groans heavily. Knowing that I have this effect on him, makes me feel powerful. I twist my head, and press my lips against the first piece of skin I can find, a soft spot at the bottom of his neck. Not enough, my greedy body is yelling at me. It wants more. Decisively, I grab his shirt and start pulling it free. The material is way to stiff and tight, making it a struggle. With a frustrated growl, I pull myself free of him.

'Take it off', I demand. I am shocked at the sound of my own lust filled voice. Shocked, but pleased.

Now it is his turn to hesitate.

'Are you sure you want to do this? Shouldn't we… I don't know… talk about this?'

'No talking', I answer resolutely. I send him a pleading look, locking eyes with him until I see him yield to my wishes, acknowledging them with a tiny nod.

'Now… Take. It. Off.' I insist.

Without another word he starts opening the buttons of his shirt. My eyes are glued to his fingers as they pop each button to reveal more skin, saving the cufflinks for last. He opens his shirt while pulling it free. Then, with a shrug of his shoulder and a quick pull, the shirt is lying at his feet. I gasp and drink in the sight of his powerful, naked chest. I reach out my hands and place them flat on his chest, spreading my fingers wide. The feel of his naked skin beneath my fingers is indescribable. I frantically start to trace every inch of it with my fingers, touching his collarbone, his shoulder blades, biceps, abdomen, nipples, back, waist... Mesmerized by the sight and the feel of him, I am suddenly disorientated as he pulls my shirt over my head with no warning. For a second, I have the ridiculous urge to cross my arms in front of me. But then I notice the look in his eyes as he takes in the sight of me. His stare is like the caress of the sun on a beautiful summer day, and the appreciation in his eyes makes me forget about my insecurities.

'God, you are beautiful. You know that right?'

I swallow. Is he expecting me to answer that? But before I can worry myself over this, he grabs my hand and yanks me close. Catching me off guard, I collide into his body, the breath forced out off me with an oompf. I manage to gasp one huge breath, before he captures my mouth into another fierce kiss. The combination of the lack of air and the feel of naked skin on naked skin, is overwhelming me. I feel my knees buckling beneath me, and fling my arms around his neck for support. With one fluent motion, he glides his hands up my sides to my armpits, picks me up as if I weigh nothing and plants my ass on the stainless steel worktop behind me. Before I know what's hit me, he steps in between my thighs, curls his arms around my waist and pushes our bodies close. I am enchanted by the fact that I am now slightly looking down on him. Experimentally, I use my hands to tilt his head back, and cover his mouth with mine. He willingly lets me dominate him, opening his mouth for my invading tongue. I've been kissed before, have kissed a man before, but never was it anywhere as intense as this. In a desperate attempt to get even closer, I slide to the edge of the worktop and wrap my legs around his waist. We both hiss our breath as our still clothed crotches collide. The feel of his erection against mine, makes me whimper into his mouth. He shudders, moans, and gingerly bucks his hips up against me. I rip my mouth free to gaps for air, trying to refocus my half closed eyes. He bucks his hips again, more boldly now, and all I can do is arch my back, throw back my head and grunt his name.

'Christian'.

'You like that?', I can practically hear his lips curl into a smile as he asks me that. All I can do is lift my head and nod.

'Want me to do it again?' he teases me.

'Yes' I answer, but instead of waiting for him to take action, I use my heels to push him back into me. He chuckles approvingly, before thrusting himself into me in earnest, rocking back and forth, causing our erections to rub together with delicious friction. I cling onto him, panting, pressing kisses on every part of him I can reach, and when that is not enough, licking him, biting him, all the while meeting him thrust for thrust. I want to tell him to keep doing this, harder, faster, how good it feels, but all I can manage are tiny little cries and low moaning sounds. Feeling reckless, I slide my hands down his chest, teasing his nipples on my way. When my hands reach his waistband, I start to unbutton his trousers. Suddenly, his hand is on mine, stopping my movements.

'What? What's wrong?' I ask him.

He shakes his head, fighting to get himself back under control. He steps back from between my thighs, gently setting me back on the ground. When he is certain my legs will support me, he releases me.

'We're not going to do this. Not here', he says quietly.

'Will you come back to mine?' he continues, and then he looks at me.

I take a deep breath, and recognize this moment for what it is. The moment of truth. The point of no return. He is giving me the opportunity to escape. Walk away. Pretend this never happened. Or…

Or I can go with him and experience the night I've been fantasizing about for weeks. I can read the promise of exactly how good it is going to be in his smouldering eyes. I look at him as he stands before me, lips swollen from our kissing, his naked chest heaving, the bulge of his erection straining against the fabric of his trousers. My eyes widen and my mouth feels dry. It is up to me now. My choice. My decision.

I close my eyes, and count to ten, heavily breathing in and out. When I open them again, I have a semblance of control back. Silently, I crouch down to pick my discarded shirt up of the floor. I let it float over my head, even the flighty touch of my thin shirt sending shivers through my now oversensitive skin. Only then do I look up at him.

'Let's go', is all I manage to say. But it is more than enough.

**~s~c~**

**No, this is not the end... But you'll have to wait for the next chapter I'm afraid! As always, reviews are appreciated!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Ok... Right... So I feel the need to ramble on here in an attempt to explain myself. But I will resist and let you judge for yourself. Eek! Oh, one more thing: there's smut, looooots of smut. Seriously.**

**~s~c~**

Breathe in… Breathe out… Alright. Here we go. I raise my hand, and softly knock on his door.

I know he's waiting for me. We agreed that he would go first. There was no way we could have walked over to his apartment together without people knowing _exactly_ what we were up to. I could see it plastered all over his face, and I knew mine wasn't much better. It felt strange, slipping through the door he left open for me. I took the stairs, two at a time, and now… here I am.

I hear his footsteps coming towards me moments before the door is flung open.

'Now then… Where were we?' he says in the most sultry voice I have ever heard.

I gulp my breath and can do nothing but stare. Christian is standing before me, like he was just minutes ago. Shirtless. The vibe coming off him is feral, wild and dangerous but oh so enticing. His eyes are appraising me, taking me in from head to toe and shining his approval back at me. His stance is that of a jungle cat, seemingly relaxed, but poised and ready for attack. The message is clear. I'm on his turf now. As soon as I step over this threshold, I am his to claim. When confronted with such an overwhelming sight, any sane person would surely flee. Sanity though, is clearly long lost to me. So without hesitation and with much anticipation, I step into his lair.

In one fell swoop, the door is slammed shut behind me, my shirt is yanked up over my head, and I am in his arms once again.

'Ah yes… that seems about right.' And with that satisfied statement, he captures my mouth in a ferocious kiss.

Yes. It's like I can hear my body responding, an unequivocal answer to his unspoken question. His hands are everywhere. Stroking my hair, following the curve of my spine, sliding up and down my arms, my sides, tracing my neck, my shoulders... His fingers leave a hot fiery trail over my body, while his tongue is exploring my mouth with determination. My blood, my brain, my heart, are full of only him. All I can do, is let it happen. I let myself be swept up by the current of my feelings, evoked by his assault on my senses. It is an amazing feeling. I am giving myself up to him, without reservation, and it just feels… right. As it should be. As it was meant to be.

His tongue has left my mouth. He sucks in my bottom lip, tugging it gently before releasing it. His eyes are boring into mine, as I feel his hands slide down my back, coming to rest on my arse. He buries his face in my neck, nuzzles my hair, and gives my arse an appreciative squeeze.

'Hmmmmmm...' The sound of his voice sends shivers up and down my spine.

'I think you're wearing too many clothes' he mumbles into my neck. 'Take it off' he whispers, while giving the waistband of my trousers a little snap.

'Ok', is all the response I manage. I step back and try and take off my trousers. The button is giving me trouble, as my hands are trembling. When I finally get it open, I heave a sigh of relieve, pull the zip down and let my trousers fall at my feet. He just looks at me, and gives a little nod to indicate my pants.

'Those too'

Obediently, I take them off and step out of both trousers and pants. I hear him suck in his breath. I look up, to see him looking at me with undisguised hunger, looking even more like a predator. My arousal reaches an almost painful level, my cock impossibly hard, already leaking at the tip. I see his eyes glaze over as a guttural sound escapes him. Within seconds, he has opened his trousers, yanked them down, pants and all. Before I can get a good look at him, he has crushed my body with his and he has reclaimed my mouth. His erection is pressing against my abdomen, feeling unbelievably large. He has his arms wrapped tightly around me, effectively trapping mine against my sides. With some force, I manage to wriggle them free and push them in between us. I grope around until I am able to wrap first one and then both hands around his length. I just hold it there, feeling it's strength, the slight curve, the thick vein at the base, throbbing heat. Christian breaks free from our kiss with a hiss and pushes me back slightly. This is good, because I want to see him. Reluctantly I release my grip and just look at him.

'Syed'

I look up at the sound of my name. What the hell is happening to me? He is looking at me with such intensity, like he is ready to devour me whole. And instead of being disturbed by this, by the thought of what he can do to me with that powerful body, not to mention that huge cock, I just want him to get on with it already. My entire being seems to think it a fabulous idea to simply surrender to him and let him do with me what he will. And I'm not even trying to hide it. He throws me an incredulous look, hesitating only for a second before he puts his hands on my ass again, tilting me towards him. He lifts me up as I lean in against him. With a few steps, he has reached the bed, that I now notice for the first time. It is huge, and takes centre stage of the room. He lies me down gently and hovers over me, supported by those muscular arms. He starts pressing urgent kisses on my heated skin, first on my lips, nose, cheeks, eyelids, jaw line, neck, and then his mouth travels further down my body. Reaching my chest he starts lapping at my skin, circling his tongue around my nipples, and then lower, dipping into my bellybutton. All I can do is lie there, my hands in his hair, my head thrashing on the pillow, desperate cries escaping my lips. I feel him hovering over me, his hot breath caressing my straining erection. And then he takes me in, making me arch my back and buck my hips into his mouth while I push his head down upon me. But he's having none of it. He pins my hips down with one arm, leaving no doubt about who is in charge.

He slowly lowers his mouth to take me in deeper. The feeling of my erection, enveloped in his warm, wet mouth is almost too much for me. I clench my fist into the sheets to stop myself from coming. Lifting himself of slightly, almost releasing me from his mouth, he starts circling the tip with his tongue. That is just the start of what I am sure must be his attempt to kill me with pleasure. He is using his skilled tongue to continue to torture me, while his fingers have started to caress the delicate skin of my inner thighs. I close my eyes and wantonly open my legs for him. He wastes no time exploring me further. Soon, his fingers are gently fondling my balls and then I feel him slipping a finger between my butt cheeks. And just like that, he is gone. The loss of his touch has left me feeling cold and I can't stop a little shiver of disappointment going through me.

I open my eyes, to see him fumbling with something on the nightstand. Before I can focus my eyes enough to see what it is, he is back, kneeling between my thighs. And then his hands are back on me, but they are now cool and slick. I moan at the feeling of him stroking the very sensitive skin of my cock, my balls, my arse. The feeling of one of his fingers pressing against me and then entering me has me sit up with a start. But he gently places his hand on my abdomen, easing me back down.

'It's ok. Relax…' He brushes his lips against mine and looks at me with comforting eyes. I can still see lust and hunger, but there is a softness and tenderness lying underneath. Trusting he won't hurt me, I give him a little nod. He eases in another finger, and I can't help myself tightening my muscles around his fingers. It isn't really painful anymore, but it doesn't feel good either. That is, before he begins to move.

My eyes widen, and I suck in my breath. His face is hovering over mine, and I see his lips curl in a satisfied smile. Mesmerized by his beautiful face above me and the movements of his fingers inside me, I give myself over to the pleasure. He is moving his fingers, sliding in and out, spreading them, opening me up. When he ads a third finger and angles them up, they hit a spot inside that I know must be my prostate. I thrust myself mindlessly down on his fingers, wanting to feel that again and again and again… I almost sob when he pulls his fingers out, but then he adjusts himself, crawling further in between my thighs. Effortlessly, he places my legs on his shoulders and then I forget everything but the feeling of his cock, ready to enter me.

'Please…' I whimper, pushing myself up against him. And then he is slowly sliding in, keeping our eye contact. He pauses regularly, waiting for me to adjust to the incredible feeling of his cock filling me, before he edges in further. I can't keep still. I'm writhing beneath him, shudders are rocking through my body. When he is finally all the way inside me, he closes his eyes and grinds his teeth. I can tell he is trying to control himself, wanting it to be good for me, giving me enough time. His chest is heaving, drops of sweat are running down his face.

'Christian, please…' I moan.

And then he starts to move. He draws back, his cock almost sliding all the way out, before he slams himself back into me. He finds my prostate at the first try, sending the most incredible jolts of pleasure surging through my body. I can hear erratic keening noises escaping my throat, as he starts slamming into me again and again. I grab his shoulders to pull him closer, not caring that his body is crushing me. Although it is making it hard to breathe, I can't resist moving my hands to cradle his head and place my lips back on his. We share short, wet kisses, breaking our lips apart regularly to give us a chance to breathe. The effect of these kisses, combined with the ever quickening pace of his hips is dizzying. I close my eyes again, letting my head fall back. Tentatively, I try and push up my hips to meet his. Oh yes… I want to tell him how good it feels, but I can only produce incoherent sounds. So I settle for bucking my hips again, meeting him thrust for thrust. He lifts himself up a bit, enabling him to thrust even deeper. I feel no pain, only pure unadulterated pleasure. I'm very close now. I reach out to him, running my fingers over his chest, stroking his hair, tracing his muscles, teasing his nipples. As I feel myself getting closer and closer to exploding, my whole body clamps up. Feeling this, he roughly grabs hold of my chin.

'Open your eyes Sy…' His voice is rough but steady. I obediently open my eyes. He lets his hand slip between our sweat slicked bodies and takes my neglected cock in a firm grip. That is all it takes. I let go, screaming his name as I come. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, pumps into me a couple of more times and then comes with a loud, toe curling groan.

The breath is forced out of me as he lets his weight topple down on me, clinging on to me while we wait for the shudders of our release to cease. Then he slides my legs gently off his shoulders as he rolls over on his back, pulling me close. I curl into him, laying one arm across his chest and a leg over his thigh. He wraps a strong, protective arm around me, pulling me in even closer, dropping a kiss on top of my head.

Lying there, I have never felt happier. My nerve ends are still zinging from his touch, my body feeling both spent and invigorated. I listen as our breath and our hearts slowly calm down to a more healthy level. His hand is running leisurely up and down my arm. I tangle my fingers in his chest hair, pulling it softly and then smoothing it down with the palm of my hand. After a while, he uses the arm he has wrapped around me to pull me in and presses the sweetest of kisses on my lips. I let out a satisfied sigh as I open my mouth to let him in. We kiss each other, over and over again, speaking without the use of words. I already feel the repressed doubts and guilt trying to battle their way into my consciousness. But I resolutely push them back, at least for now. I refuse to feel bad right now. I want to enjoy and celebrate this moment. Later, I promise my subconscious. And then I snuggle up to Christian, greedily breathing in his deliciously musky scent.

**~s~c~**

**So... What did you think?**


	7. Chapter 7

**I've jumped ahead in time a bit with this new chapter. It's the famous "Gotcha" scene. With this chapter, I tried to show how Syed came to say "Ok" after all that resistence. **

**~s~c~**

'Gotcha'

He laughs.

'Yeah, you have' And then he looks at me and grabs my hand.

'Come back to mine'

It is as if the last few weeks never happened. Just like that, I give in.

'Ok'

What the hell am I doing? I've fought so hard. Pushed him away, resisted him, physically fought with him. All for nothing?

**~s~c~**

_My life is a nightmare, yet__ in my dreams I am in heaven. Every night I dream of him. His hands on me, his lips… The feeling of being possessed by him, protected by him, worshipped by him. In my dreams I am in his bed, in his arms, in his life. We are so close, our limbs tangled up, our sweat and our breath mixing. My dreams send me searing high, heart bursting with happiness. In my dreams there is only us, nothing else exists. _

_I remember how it was before. I remember not being able to sleep, tossing and turning in my bed. Feeling tortured by my desire for him. My body's aching need of his, keeping me awake. I thought that was bad. But this… This is so much worse._

_Every night I lead the life that can never be mine. It is so… real. I can feel his body, pressing against me as he spoons me. I can feel his hands, touching me. His skin on mine, radiating his heat to warm me through and through. His lips… everywhere. His tongue, teasing, flicking, sucking… His cock, in my mouth, pressed against my abdomen, buried deep inside me. I can feel him. I can. And then…_

_And then I wake up and my whole world shatters into tiny little pieces. None of it is real. He is not here. He is not mine. And I, I am not his. Every day I wake up like this. With the heat, the passion, the thrill, the exhilaration still pumping through my veins. My body flushed and sweaty, my hair a tangled mess, my breath and my heart still racing. I'll either wake up with a raging hard on, aching for release, or with my climax yet behind me, leaving only a guilty sticky mess._

_It is devastating. It is devastating to wake up believing myself the luckiest man alive. Believing us to be in love, together, united. Feeling so utterly happy, fulfilled, safe. Waking up, expecting him to be right there. And then, every morning, reality kicks me in the gut. No Christian. No us. It isn't real. It was just a dream. The disappointment leaving a bitter taste._

_My dreams have been torturing me by night and he, he has been torturing me by day. Coming way too close. Touching me. Or even worse, __almost__ touching me. Looking at me with those knowing eyes. I have closed myself off to him again, but I know he can still see. See how much I want him. See how desperate I am __not__ to want him. _

_I expected him to tell. I waited for him to tell Amira, Dad, Mum, anyone. I tried to make sure he wouldn't. I tried pushing him away as far as I could. I tried messing with his head, but he is so much better at that than I could ever be. I expected him to tell, but he didn't. _

_I don't quite know how he feels about me now. He still wants me, he's made no secret of that, but does he care for me? Even if it's just a little bit? I shouldn't care one way or the other, but I do. I so do._

_I also don't know __why he doesn't just… make his move. Keeping my distance, pushing him away, is all well and good. I can do that. But if he really wanted to… He could just pull me into him, kiss me, and I would be his. And I think he knows that. So why doesn't he? My guess is that he wants it to be my choice. Made consciously. One I can't deny later._

_I know I can't be with him. I made a mistake, that's all. I shouldn't have kissed him, and as for the rest, well… I know I should feel guilty. And I do, I really do. I feel guilty for lying to my parents, to Amira. I feel guilty for wanting him every single minute of every single day. I feel guilty towards my god, because although I can have doubts about my faith and my sexuality, I know the way I have acted is wrong. I've lied and I've cheated. And I want more. I feel guilty when my thoughts are filled with him, instead of my family, my faith, Amira. I'm starting to resent Amira for her spoilt behaviour and her disdain to my family. And I feel guilty about that too. I feel guilty that I am not the son my parents want and think me to be. I feel guilty… I do. But what I don't feel guilty about, is being with Christian that night. I know it was wrong. I know it should have never happened. But I also know, there was nothing I could do. It was a disaster waiting to happen, and I could do nothing to stop it. _

**~s~c~**

I told him I would meet him later at his place. I told him I would try and fix the painting as best I could and talk to Mum first. What I didn't tell him was that I needed some time. Last time, I allowed myself no time to think. No time to hesitate. But this time is different. I could forgive myself for making this mistake once. But to make it twice?

Being with Christian, even if it was only once, was inevitable. I know that now. I might have been able to stop it from happening that particular night, but it would have happened eventually. But now? I could stop myself now. I could text him that I changed my mind, or that something came up, that I can't get away. I could go home, have a family meal, watch some telly and have another night full of dreams of him. I could, and I should. But I don't want to. I want to go to him. Feel those arms around me again. See him looking at me like he did that night, feel beautiful again. I could touch him, every last part of him, and he would let me. I could, but I shouldn't. But I want to.

If I go to him, it will mean guilt later. It would mean I could have stopped myself, but didn't. One more thing to feel guilty about. And it couldn't go anywhere. Nothing has changed. More lies, more betrayal. But also… one more time of feeling wonderful and this time not wake up and find it was a dream. One more chance to taste him, feel him, be with him…

It was yesterday that I gave up the fight. I've been doing everything in my power to keep my distance. But yesterday, we had to work together, side by side, no one else around. He was taunting me, going on and on about some bloke he was meeting up with. In the end, I just couldn't take it anymore. I was exhausted with the rollercoaster of feelings, high and exiting in my dreams, low and devastating when I woke. Exhausted with trying to keep my distance. Exhausted from fighting back the urge to just fling myself in his arms and shut him up with a massive snog.

Something snapped. He pushed me too far. I pushed myself too far. Before I knew it, I was wrestling him on the floor. I must have looked like a right pratt. What was I thinking? The man is twice my size for fucks sake. What did I think I was going to accomplish? Battle him into submission with my teeny tiny arms and fist? Well, maybe not so teeny tiny really, but when compared to him? He is just on another scale than the rest of us.

So I lost. And then we talked. It was good really. Like… like we were friends. Only usually, when you talk with your friends, you're not secretly hoping they'll jump you and shag you senseless.

But like I said, it was good. Like it was before. Friendly, relaxed. Nice. So I decided to give up the fight and just be his friend. That lasted all of, well, 24 hours? My powers of self-control amaze me. I can't help but snort.

So… what to do? To give in is the beginning of the end. It would just be a matter of time before I would give in again, and again… And the more I give in, the greater the chance that I will be found out. I know all that. But the thought of not going to him… It feels like all my dreams are being yanked away from me. To not go to him, when I have the chance? To not let him hold me, kiss me, fuck me? I've made my choice. And with a shiver of anticipation, I go to him.

**~s~c~**

**Everyone who has left me a review on this story, thank you so very very much! And yes, I would still like more. I'm greedy like that :-P**


	8. Chapter 8

**This chapter is from Christian's POV. It took me a looooooong time to get it right. So I hope it works for you. This is the story of waht happens after Gotcha, so yeah, there's smut. Don't like, don't read ;-). Rhumba hun, you've been an angle with this one, love ya, MWAH!**

**~c~s~**

'Gotcha'

I can't help but laugh.

'Yeah, you have' I admit, taking his hand. And then I just go for it.

'Come back to mine' I hold my breath and wait for his answer.

'Ok'

That was minutes ago. Now I'm here, at home, waiting for him again. I can't believe it. I'd almost given up hope that this would ever happen. And to be honest, I'm still not entirely convinced he'll show up. I mean, I think he will… but I'm not sure.

These last couple of weeks have been hard. Seeing him every day, being near him. I was blind before, but now… Now, every time I see him, I _see_ him. I see the person that he is, fun, kind, warm, loving.

I pour myself a drink to calm my nerves. It'll probably take him some time to get here, so I turn on the TV to distract myself. I flip through the channels, but am too restless to concentrate. So I just pick some sort of music clip channel thingy and only half look at it.

I'm not sure how I feel about this. The last time he was here… It was amazing. Mind-blowing sex, sure, but it was more than that. I don't mean to brag, but I've had some amazing sex before. But this… this was different. He touched something deep inside, stirred up some unfamiliar feelings. Feelings that scared me… but in a good way.

I hate that he pushes me away. I hate that he pushes me away, when all I want is to be near him, touch him, hold him. When I see his lovely hair, I want to stroke it. I want to feel the stubble on his cheeks, trace the curve of his lips with my thumb and press a kiss on the tip of his nose. I want to hold him in my arms again, squeezing him tight, kiss him like our lives depend on it. Whatever he is wearing, I just want to rip it off him, so I can feel his naked skin once more. I want to let my fingers, my mouth, my tongue explore him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. I want to make him scream my name, over and over, hear him moan and groan until he can't make another sound. I want him… And I know he wants me. I know he was so happy when he was in my arms. His body felt like it was made for mine. There is a connection between us, he felt it too, I'm sure of it!

_******~c~s~**_

_My life was going nowhere. I used to be all about having fun, enjoying the good things in life, moving on when I got bored. It was a good life and I don't regret it. I missed my family, and something else I couldn't __quite put my finger on at the time, but other than that, I was having a blast. I thought that would be enough for me. How could it not be? But then… I guess the best I can describe it, is to say it started to feel a bit… hollow. Empty. Meaningless. Sure, I still had fun sometimes, going out, dancing, picking up some new guy every other night. But most of the time, I just felt lonely. I could be in a club, surrounded by hundreds of people, and still feel like I was the only one there. Even when I was with my friends, I __still__ felt alone. _

_That's when I decided to come here. It has been lovely having my sister and her family so close. I love those kids, Lucy especially, cheeky thing. Other than that, my life sort of continued as it was before. Although I kept my eyes open, trying to find someone to start something real with, something, I don't know… substantial. A relationship. So far, I haven't had much luck. Mostly I get bored after just one night and when I __do__ find someone I like, they always manage to disappoint me in the end._

_Than there is Roxy. She's a good mate. A bit self obsessed at times, but I love her really. I have to admit, when she asked me to raise Amy with her, I'd never been happier. That was something I thought I'd never have. When it fell through, well… It was tough. _

_And now, __there's Syed. After a bit of a rocky start, we got along great. There was an instant connection there. I can't believe I was so blind that I didn't see it straight away. Now whenever I see him, my heart flutters in my chest. He is so bloody gorgeous, I struggle to keep my hands to myself. Now that I've seen what's underneath those clothes… That soft, smooth, slightly tanned skin. His slim hips and waist, flowing into that hot arse. His arms and legs, lean, but muscular. And the best thing about his body, the way it feels when it is pressed against mine._

_I know he'__s struggling. Some of the things he is struggling with, I've struggled with myself. But there is more to it with him. It clearly has to do with his faith and his family. I can understand only part of it. He won't talk about it, but I can see his pain. I admit, sometimes I feel selfish, pushing him the way I do. Think that perhaps I should just let him be. But then… there is something in his eyes when he looks at me. Something that makes me think, that if I just open my arms and wrap them around him, he'll let me. It almost seems like he wants me to at times. Somehow, I can't bring myself to do it though. I'll try and trigger him, get in his space, force him to notice me, yes. But I need him to come to me. And now he says he will. So here I am, waiting._

**~c~s~**

I've poured myself another drink. The music, was giving me a headache, so I turned it off. It's been about half an hour now. He could be here any minute. I feel sort of… nervous. I shake my head in exasperation. _Get over yourself Christian! You can do this. You've done it hundreds of times before for fucks sake, this isn't any different._ Except that it is of course. Everything is different. I care about him. A lot. And I think… I think there is a very good chance that that caring will develop into something more. But can it go anywhere? Will he push me away again tomorrow? I don't know. Part of me, the cowardly part, wants to just forget about the whole thing. But I can't. _I can't_. I see potential here that is worth fighting for. And a lot of fighting I'll have to do, I'm sure of that. But hey, I'm strong, I can handle it. I _have_ to fight. If I give up now, I know I'll regret it. And anyway, giving up is not my style. So I'm not going to.

I hear a soft knock on my door. He's here. I can feel the relieve wash through me. I guess I was more worried than I thought. I get up, slowly walk towards the door and let him in. He looks… beautiful. Gorgeous. Hot. Just like he always does really. I'm already looking forward to slowly unbuttoning that checked shirt. Patience, I tell myself.

'Come in', I say and I watch him as he enters my flat. He seems nervous.

'Want something to drink?' I ask, as I walk towards the kitchen.

'Just some water thanks,' he answers.

When I walk back towards him, I notice that he hasn't moved. He is standing there, uncomfortable, doesn't know what do with himself.

'Please, sit down' I wave my arm to indicate the sofa. He sits down, on the edge of the seat. I repress a laugh.

'Just relax Sy, I'm not going to bite you'. Well not yet anyway. But I keep that part to myself for now. I need him to calm down a bit. He takes a sip of water, and then he settles himself into the couch. I've taken a seat next to him, careful not to get too close.

'So, did you talk to your mum? She calm down yet?'

'No, I… I called her on my way over here but she didn't answer. Left a message that I wouldn't be home for dinner. That I would probably be… late'. The implication of what he is saying is hanging in the air. I decide to let it pass. I'm trying to think of what to say next, a "safe" subject, but I keep coming up empty. The silence is getting a bit heavy, when he suddenly breaks it by clearing his throat. I look up. He has turned his head towards me and slightly tilted it in a questioning manner.

'So… are you going to kiss me anytime soon?'

Suddenly, my heart is in my throat. He looks startled, like he can't believe he really said that.

'Yeah… yeah, I think I might. D' you think _now_ would be a good time then?' I ask him teasingly.

'I do' he says. He is being so serious, it is freakin' adorable. So I scooch over to him and lean in. I kiss him lightly on the lips, and then move back a bit.

'More?' I ask.

'Yes' he breathes. So I kiss him again, lingering a bit this time.

'More?' I repeat. He nods. I slip my hand behind his neck, and pull him in for a serious snog. I feel a bolt of electricity go through my body as I push my tongue into his mouth. With difficulty I pull back. I smile when I hear his little whimper. I press a tiny little kiss in his neck and then whisper in his ear:

'More?'

'Yes, yes, please…'

As I kiss him again, he crawls in so close, that he is almost sitting in my lap.

He is kissing me back fiercely, his hands slipping behind my back. I run my fingers through his hair. I love the feel of those silky strands running through my fingers. Blindly, I grope for the buttons on his shirt. I start opening them slowly, just like I planned it. He is naked underneath. I rip his shirt free from his waistband to open the last two buttons. I break away from our kiss to get rid of my own shirt. Just before I pull it over my head, I see him shrug his shirt off his shoulders. My arms are still in the air, pulling off my shirt, when he straddles my lap and pushes his naked chest against mine. God I've missed that feeling. Dropping my shirt carelessly on the floor, I wrap my arms tightly around him, relishing the feeling of his naked skin on mine. He groans and starts pressing urgent little kisses in my neck. I tilt my head, to give him free reign, while I focus on loosening his belt. As soon as I've succeeded, I move on to fumble with his jeans. I'm surprised when he suddenly pulls back and gets off my lap. But before I can get disappointed, I see he's just taking off his shoes and socks. When they're gone, he starts tugging impatiently at his jeans. He is clearly in a hurry. Not one to be left behind, I kick off my flip flops and push down my shorts. Should I just lose the pants now too, or… I look over and check to see what he is doing. Perfect timing, as he steps out of his tight black pants right at that moment, buck naked. I take only a second to take in that breathtaking view, before I quickly get rid of my own.

For a moment we hesitate. I don't know about him, but I, I just have to look at him. I thought I remembered every little detail, knew exactly how beautiful he really was. But the reality of seeing him, standing before me, is so much more intense. I seem to have lost my voice, so I try and tell him with my eyes how beautiful he looks. He looks… perfect. A hesitant smile forms on his lips. I hold out my hand. Silently, he takes it and places first his left, then his right knee on either side of my thighs. His naked buttocks resting on my thighs, his erection pressed up against mine. I slip my arms around his waist and reclaim his mouth. He has his hands on either side of my face. Then he lowers them, letting his arms rest on my shoulders.

He pulls back from our kiss and starts a trail of kisses, licks and soft little bites down my neck towards my chest. It feels like his hands, mouth, tongue and teeth touch every last spot on my chest. I love the way he tugs at my chest hair with his nimble fingers and his sharp, white teeth. He follows the trail of hair, all the way down, until he hovers over my quivering cock. Thoughtfully, he flips his leg back over my lap, so he is now kneeling next to me.

'You don't have to do this', I manage to say. But my cock seems to belie my words by making tiny little jerking movements towards his mouth. He ignores me. I close my eyes when I feel his hand on me. He pulls my cock back from my stomach and gives it a gentle stroke. I moan and fight to keep still. I feel a little flick of his tongue at the tip and my eyes fly open as I gasp for breath. He doesn't even notice, so focussed is he on his task. He starts exploring me with his tongue. First he laps at it, from the base to the tip. Then he takes it in as far as he can. I almost scream from the effort it takes me not to buck my hips into his mouth. As he keeps torturing me with his tongue, making up new moves as he goes along, I can't keep in the desperate guttural groans and I moan his name over and over again.

'Sy…'

His hand keeps up a steady rhythm, pumping up and down, while his mouth is around the tip. When I cannot control myself any longer, I yank him back by his hair and keep him at a safe distance.

'Not yet' I mutter, more to myself than to him, 'Not yet'.

After a few deep breaths, I manage to look up at him, my hand still clawed in his hair. He is panting slightly and has a bit of a smug look on his face. I pull him roughly by his hair, efficiently wiping that smug look off his face with a searing kiss. We kiss as long as our lungs can stand it, then we pull apart, both our chest heaving with panting breaths.

'I want to be inside you when I come' I say urgently, piercing his dark, soft eyes with mine.

He blinks and takes a deep breath.

'Yes' he agrees, and he moves to get up.

I stop him by gripping his waist. He looks confused. I smile reassuringly, and kiss him lightly. Then I raise my hand and hold out two fingers, touching them against his lips. Immediately, he sucks them in. He looks at me with those huge eyes of his, while he wets my fingers with his tongue. It is such an erotic sight, that I can feel the sensation going right to my groin. I stare at him, mesmerized, until he releases my fingers with a little pop. At once I replace my fingers with my tongue as I kiss him hungrily. Meanwhile, I lower my hand behind him to press a wet finger against his arse. Slowly, I push in, adding a second finger when the first is halfway in. He grimaces a bit, but doesn't pull back, so I start to gently prepare him with my fingers. I'm worried that I can't hold out much longer.

'Sy, you ready?' I ask uncertainly. But he just smiles at me and nods.

'Come here than', I order. I cup his arse and lift him up a bit. I take my cock in a firm grip, and align myself with his arse.

'Good,' I breathe, 'Now, lower yourself on me, guide me along'.

And he does. He makes to thrust himself down, but I grip his hips and tell him to go slow.

'Yes… O god yes, that's it… sloooooooooowly' I moan.

He takes his time. He feels so unbelievably tight that I worry I might be hurting him. But the look on his face is one of concentration, not pain. In order to keep myself still, I bite my lower lip, hard.

He looks entranced, so concentrated, his eyes closed, his lips slightly opened. I could get addicted to the sight of him. I feel a little pang as I realize that I don't know if I'll ever see him like this again. So, just in case, I look… and look… and look some more. When I'm all the way inside him, he lets out a triumphant little cry and opens his eyes. I thought he looked beautiful before, but those eyes… They get me every time. When I start to move my hips, he gives me a startled look.

'Go with it' I tell him.

Tentatively, he moves his hips back and forth. I can tell the moment the angle is just right. I steady his hips and lift myself up, thrusting into him, brushing up against his prostate with each thrust. He starts moaning, giving me encouraging little cries. I thrust up, hard, deep, fast. My muscles are straining but it's like my hips are moving by themselves. I thrust up higher, deeper, faster. His constant little moans sort of string together, almost making it sound like he's humming. I have to take a break, my muscles are screaming with the strain. At first, he gives me little disappointed look. But then he starts to move his own hips, quickly getting into a kind of trance. The feeling of him, riding me, is brilliant. So brilliant in fact, that I won't be able to control myself much longer.

'Sy… wait… slow down' I gasp. But he shakes his head and picks up the pace. I give in, taking his cock in my hand, stroking it forcefully. He widens his eyes, now alternating between pushing himself down on me and then pushing himself into my hand.

'Oh god Sy… I'm gonna… I'm….'

And then my orgasm hits me like a hurricane, ripping a scream from my body. For a moment, all goes dark around me, all I can do is feel. Feel him move himself up and down a few more times, until his muscles clamp down around my spent cock.

'Christian' he cries, as I feel his body being ripped by his orgasm. I let us fall to the side, stretching out on the length of the sofa.

We lay on our sides, facing each other, as close as we can get. We are a perfect fit. My chin is resting on his head. We hold hands between our bodies, while we have the other arm wrapped around each others waist. Our breath making our chests rise and fall at the same pace. Our hearts, beating together, following the same rhythm.

_Mine_, I think. I concentrate on every part of me that is touching a part of him. I breathe in our mingled scents. _Mine_, I think again. And with a satisfied little sigh, I press a kiss on the top of his head, while I gently squeeze his hand. _Mine_, I decide.

**~c~s~**

**Reviews, as always, are much appreciated :-P**


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter starts where the previous one ended. We're back to Syed's POV.**

**~s~c~**

'Talk to me'

I can feel his chest vibrate as he speaks. We've been quietly lying here for what feels like ages and yet is not nearly long enough. I want to never leave this place. I'm absorbing it all for future reference. The way he feels when I let my fingers explore every part of him, the way he smells after we've just had sex, the way he sounds when he says my name, the way he tastes as I lick and bite the tender skin of his neck. And now, what it is like to be this close to him. I feel like I am lost in him and he is lost in me. It's a wonderfully strange and amazing feeling.

'About what?' I reluctantly reply.

'Tell me something about yourself'

I bury my face further into his chest and sigh. He responds by kissing me on top of my head and nuzzling my hair.

'What do you want to know?'

'Anything…'

'I'm an Aries, how's that?' I try.

He smiles.

'It's a start. Now tell me something real. Something important'

'Like what?'

He hesitates.

'Tell me… about your first time'.

That was unexpected. I feel myself stiffen in his arms and before I know it, my lips have formed an instinctive response.

'No!'

He squeezes my hand and starts gently stroking my hair with the other. The feel of his fingers and his hot breath in my hair is strangely soothing. I can already feel my body relaxing.

'It's ok Sy. Please?'

He starts to gently massage my scalp with his nimble fingers. The man is truly irresistible. _Not fair_, I think.

'It was before I came here. Before I was reunited with… them again', I start. I close my eyes and hide my face against his chest. I try and snuggle even closer, needing to feel his warmth while I tell this story.

_I had been out with some colleagues when I first saw that club. __Someone suggested we go in, but that suggestion was shot down as it was apparently 'one of those gay clubs'. We laughed it off and went somewhere else. _

_The next night, I gathered up all my courage and went bac__k. I felt like a criminal, looking over my shoulder, making sure no one saw me. Once inside, I tried to make myself inconspicuous, blending in. After about 30 minutes, I finally dared to look around. The place was packed. The atmosphere hot and humid, the music loud and thumping. It was all a bit much. All the people, gyrating their bodies to the beat, blurred into one big constantly moving blurry shape. I could not discern any of the faces. Suddenly someone thrust a beer into my hands._

'_You look like you could do with a drink', he said._

_For a moment I just stood there, startled. I looked at him. He was kind of cute, blond, tallish. I gave him back the beer._

'_Sorry, I don't drink' I apologized._

'_Do you dance?' he asked._

'_Sometimes', I admitted, 'but…'_

_He wasn't listening anymore and I was dragged to the dance floor. I panicked and tried to escape, but he wouldn't let go. And then we were dancing. It felt sort of good. He let go of my hand, and I chose to stay. I closed my eyes and gave myself to the beat. We didn't talk, just danced, for hours it felt like. He kept touching me, innocent little touches at first, just on my arm, my shoulder. But then his touches got gradually bolder, putting a hand on my chest, on my arse, my face. In the end we were dancing really close and he was just groping me openly. I was… appalled, exited, disgusted, thrilled… all at the same time. _

_You see, I was so lonely back then. I felt such a yearning for any __kind of human contact, physical contact, someone to come close to me, touch me… I was scared, but I just couldn't tear myself away. _

_There was some more groping and touching in the toilets__ later that evening and then he asked me to come back to his place. I agreed. I still can't believe I actually agreed… I was so scared. I remember hearing the thumping of my heart droning in my head. _

_What can I say? He was nice I guess.. It was quick. Afterwards, I couldn't get out of there fast enough. He tried to tell me his name, give me his number, but I just ran._

He is silent. He let me blurt the whole thing out without interrupting, keeping up the comforting, even strokes through my hair. I need to know what he is thinking.

'Let's take a shower', he suddenly says, and he moves to get up. My every instinct is to cling to him, so I do.

'Wait… It's still early. I… I don't have to leave yet', I stumble, feeling the blush as it colours my cheeks.

'Who said anything about leaving? I was just suggesting we'd move this to the shower', he says, raising an eyebrow.

Oh. My blush is so hot now that it is actually burning me.

'Yeah alright than'

He's on his feet in one elegant move, pulling me up by my hand. Laughing, he leads me to the bathroom.

The water on my skin feels delicious. I've never shared a shower before, well, not since I was a child. And this is nothing like that. I feel slightly awkward at first, which seems silly after what we've just done. But then he starts washing me, his soapy hands lovingly caressing my skin. He is very thorough, even kneeling down and washing my legs and feet. I take some shower gel, and start returning the favour, starting with those broad shoulders. He gets up, so I can now freely lather his entire body with soapy suds. He places his hand over mine and looks at me all serious.

'I don't like that someone else touched you', he says.

I'm baffled, don't know how to respond to this. He shakes his head.

'I know, I know, it's ridiculous, and I have absolutely no right', he snorts, 'me of all people…'

He closes his eyes and lets the water pour down on his face. I shake him a little, place both hands on his cheeks and force him to look at me.

'It's ok. Me too', I say sincerely. And then I get on my tiptoes and give him a little kiss.

He steps back and looks me up and down.

'Are you sure you're clean enough?' he says thoughtfully.

'Seeing as you've just washed me quite literally from the top of my head all the way down to the actual tips of my toes, I'd say so, yes'

'Yeah, I'm just not convinced', he claims, while soaping up his hands 'You see, this area here still seems kind of dirty to me'

I gasp as his smooth, slithery hands slide across my arse, my inner thighs, my balls and my immediately enthused cock.

'I see your point', I manage to grunt out, 'Better to be… safe then… safe then… then sorry, oh!'

His skilful fingers tease me. He spins me round and pushes me roughly up against the cool tiles. I suck in my breath as goose bumps pop up all over my skin. But then he adjusts the showerhead and I am enveloped in warmth as the water cascades down my body. He takes both my hands and places them flat against the tiles with his own. One of his knees pushes mine apart. His hands release mine, to gently slide down my arms and then down the sensitive skin of my sides. Multiple shivers run through me. When he reaches my hips, he lets go for a moment to lather up his hands once more. His body is blocking the flow of the water, but I don't mind, as his soapy hands start caressing, stroking, kneading my arse. I moan, pushing myself into his hands. He gives me a little squeeze and then continues his motions. I close my eyes and concentrate on the sensation of his slippery hands, sliding over my wet skin. When I push back into him once more, he lets one of his hands slip in between my legs to embrace my yearning erection. I cry out and thrust my hips forth immediately, rejoicing in the feeling of his warm, wet hand around my straining cock.

'Christian' I say, feeling pleasure as I let his name roll of my tongue. I look at him over my shoulder.

'Christian', I try again, 'I want… you to know that… it was never like… this. Never… Just with you', I finish.

The look in his beautiful green eyes is startling. He looks happy. And touched. That look stirs up some warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Before I can explore it, he has grabbed my chin, twisting my neck and brutally crushed my lips with his, ravishing me with his tongue. He pushes his body up against the back of mine, pinning me up against the tiles. I should probably object to the roughness of his treatment. But I'm enjoying it way too much to complain. Also, I can feel the tenderness lying underneath the roughness. It's thrilling and heart warming at the same time.

While his tongue is exploring my mouth, his hands are busy elsewhere. One of them is sliding up and down my cock, while the other is caressing my arse. When one of his fingers slips in between my but cheeks and comes to rest against my entrance, my head starts spinning. It's almost too much to take. I'm whimpering in his mouth and my legs feel as if they won't be able to support me for much longer. Sensing this, Christian pushes his leg between mine, and I let some of my weight rest on him. As he slowly starts preparing me, I let myself completely relax and give myself over. The overload of sensation is making me see stars, but the feel of his strong body behind me, supporting me, makes me feel secure enough to surrender to it.

The combination of water and intense snogging, is making me struggle for breath. Turning my head back towards the wall, I gulp in some air, not surprised to hear him do the same. I let my forehead rest against the cool tiles.

'Sy… for me too'. I look at him over my shoulder, not understanding. And is he blushing?

'I know I… have a lot more… experience than you. But it was never like this with anyone else. So… intense. So…' He hesitates. I have a feeling he is biting back the words.

'So real', he finishes. Why do I think he was going to say something else? I start to ask him what it was, but, as always, he is a master of distraction. It's his cock that is distracting me now, all soaped up, sliding into me. I hadn't even noticed him move his leg. I arch my back, letting my head fall back against his shoulder, and sigh as he slides all the way in. I barely have time to adjust to the feeling of him filling me up before he starts thrusting into me. Hard, deep, determined strokes. He has placed his hands back on mine, up against the wall. Then he entwines his fingers with mine, making our hands into fists. The sound of the water raining down on us mixes with my panting breath and his low, guttural groans.

His mouth is on my neck, kissing, licking, biting the tender skin. His hips thrust into me at the same, maddening rhythm. It feels like… I guess the best way I can describe it is that it feels like I'm being claimed. Branded. Branded as his.

'Christian'

He lifts his head and I twist my neck round so I can look at him. It's right there, in his eyes. I'm his. Although it scares the hell out of me, it's also all I've ever wanted. With our hands joined, his cock buried deep inside, there is no escaping our connection. Yes, I'm his. Even when I'm running from him again, and I know I will be, I'll still be his. We stare at each other, as our bodies move together. I only blink when I feel my body exploding. I throw back my head and let go, feeling the shudders of release rock me. Not long after I hear him moan my name as his own orgasm claims him.

Still trembling, I break our connections in order to quickly turn around to face him and claim his mouth. I push my tongue into his mouth as I throw my arms around his neck. I kiss him, deeply, urgently, demandingly. I explore his mouth, let my tongue slide along his teeth, dart around with his tongue and then bite his lip as I release him. I keep my arms around his neck and wait for him to open his eyes. When he does, I give him a message. _Yes Christian, I am yours. But you… you are mine. And don't you forget it._

_**~s~c~**_

**Hope you enjoyed it! Still love reviews ;-)**


	10. Chapter 10

**It's a little later that same night. We're back to Christian's POV.**

**~c~s~**

Every couple of minutes I have a little freak out. Is he still here? Is this real? Or was it just a dream? About 0,5 second later I am reassured by the feeling of his body weighing down on mine, the trickle of his hair and the warm, moist air of his breath on my chest. I open my eyes to take in the sight of him, peacefully asleep. His upper body is resting on mine, his head turned sideways, one of his hands splayed on my chest.

'_I have to go', he said._

'_Don't. Please,' I pleaded, 'stay a little while longer'._

_His eyes looked tormented. I could see him struggle with the need to leave and the desire to stay._

'_What time is it?' he asked._

_I made a grab for the alarm clock at the nightstand. _

'_It's just past midnight'_

_I watched his eyes widening in shock._

'_What? Seriously?' he asked frantically, sitting up. But then he suddenly slumped himself back on the bed. 'Wait. They must have gone to bed by now. If they were wondering where I was, they would have called me. I guess I could stay a bit longer if they're asleep already… But what if __we__ fall asleep?'_

'_I want us to. I want to fall asleep and wake up in your arms'. My heart flutter__ed as I watched the intense longing flash in those beautiful brown eyes._

'_Don't worry,' I assured him, 'I'll set the alarm. How about three o 'clock', I suggested._

_The most endearingly wicked smile curled his soft lips. I was so mesmerized by this look, that I almost missed his reply._

'_Make it four'._

That's how we got here. I'm amazed that my happily pounding heart beneath his ear isn't waking him. Apparently not. He's so deeply asleep, it's like he hasn't slept in days. In his sleep, he clings to me. Every now and then his breath catches and his fingers search for me. But when he feels me, right there underneath him, he sighs contentedly and his breathing becomes even and calm again.

I haven't slept a wink. I don't want to waste a second of the time I have him here with me. Every time I feel myself nodding off, I jerk awake again. Checking to see if he's still here.

'_Tell me about… your first time'_

_Why did I have to ask him that? Why? I've never known myself to be a masochist. Did I think I would enjoy hearing about how some random bloke picked him up? Kissed him? Fucked him? I wouldn't have liked it, no matter who it was or how it __had happened. But this…_

_It physically hurt__ me to think of him like that. Alone. Vulnerable. Desperate. Craving some attention. Any attention. He needed someone to look out for him that night. He needed someone… like me. He needed me, and I wasn't there. I smiled wryly at the thought. I didn't know he needed me and I feel gutted about it. _

He can have such a vulnerable look about him at times. A look that speaks directly to the part of me that wants to, _needs to_ do anything necessary to protect him. If anyone tried to hurt him… I shudder. I'm not sure what I would do. I'm not a violent man, never have been. But he does something to me…

_I tried to wash away his__ memories, with water, soap and gentle caresses. Tried to rid him off all traces. And then I gave him some new images, sensations, experiences, to fill his head and his heart._

I startle at the sound of the alarm going of. His only reaction is to try and burry his face deeper into my chest, letting out a light huffing noise. I smile down at him, ignoring the alarm.

'Morning gorgeous. Time to wake up now', I softly say, while stroking his hair out of his face.

'Mfngk…' is his only response.

I chuckle and try again.

'Wakey wakey sleepyhead'

'Am wake… sure… hmpfngk…'

Well, that's progress I guess. Part of me wants to do nothing, just let him sleep, feel him in my arms for a little bit longer. But I can't. With a sigh, I roll over, taking him with me, pinning his body to the mattress. His eyes fly open with a start, and he's immediately wide awake.

'Christian'. In his eyes I see a rush of emotions fly by, one after another. Happiness, guilt, fear, longing, lust…

'I have to go', he says, but he makes no move to leave.

'No you don't', I smirk, 'We're not done yet'.

'Christian, I seriously have to go. It's four o 'clock already. I have to go so I can sneak back in before they realize I'm not back yet. I told you this, I need to leave at four!' and he starts to push me off him.

'You have to leave at four?' I ask. I grab the alarm clock and show him the digits.

'Good thing I set the bloody thing for three than isn't it?'

Not waiting for his reply, I crush his mouth with mine.

One more hour of him. One more hour of us. It's like nothing at all, but I'm determined to make it last. Our lovemaking is unhurried, slow and wonderful. I stroke the entire length of his body leisurely, not neglecting any part of it. His skin is still warm and soft with sleep as I touch it. He sighs, craning and curving his body under my hands.

'Sy…'

I feel the need to softly say his name, over and over again. Every time I do, he gasps and closes his eyes. I can't get enough of it.

He turns himself around in my arms and pushes his back against me. Instinctively, I pull our knees up slightly, spooning him snugly. Again I'm marvelling at how our bodies seem to fit together perfectly. I love the feeling of his lean, supple body moving with mine. Our moves are languid, are voices still. The only sounds I hear are the rustling of the sheets and our breathing. We both sigh as our bodies become one. I feel no need to hurry, no need to rush. As I move in and out of him at the same, steady pace, I feel myself slip into a dreamlike state. It's like I've slipped outside of my body, floating above our entangled bodies. I see us, laying there, together, on top of the sheets. He looks even more beautiful like this, his head falling back on my shoulder, his eyes blinking slowly as I move inside him. He's worrying his bottom lip with his teeth as I see myself nuzzling the soft hair in his neck.

'Christian'

His voice calls me back to him. I let my hands sooth down the front of his body as I press my body tighter against his. My hips have kept up their leisurely pace. I can sense Syed growing restless, pushing his arse back into me, forcing me deeper inside. I happily oblige, moving deeper, probing him deep inside, causing him to mewl incoherent syllables. But when he tries to quicken the pace, I still his hips with my hands.

'Don't. Trust me'

I can feel him force himself to slow down. Gratefully, I press a kiss on his shoulder and wrap my arms around him tightly.

'You are so beautiful Sy', I whisper in his ear. 'I love the way you feel when you're in my arms like this'.

I can't stop myself citing every little thing about him that I love, from his flowing soft hair, to his elegant fingers and his slender hips. And I love all of him. I can tell he is hanging on my every word, drinking in the admiring words. I can feel him blossoming with every compliment I give him, blossoming like no one has ever admired him before. I can feel a little tug at my heart. Why is this man so unappreciated? I try and express just how much I value him with my words, my kisses, my caresses. We keep moving, getting closer and closer to what I know will be a heart wrenching climax. I keep telling him how wonderful I think he is, and when I can't think of anything new, I just repeat what I said before.

I hold myself together until I feel him come ever closer to the edge. As he lets go, he shouts out hoarsely, his body jerking uncontrollably. The tightening of his muscles around me drags me over the edge alongside him. I almost black out with the force of my climax, hearing nothing, seeing nothing, only able to steady myself by clinging on to him.

I let myself slip out of him, enabling him to turn himself around and face me. His eyes are beaming at me, belying the tears that have quietly escaped them. Only now do I feel the tears that are streaking down my own face. He pulls me close and starts kissing the tears away.

'You are beautiful too. I love the way you make me feel, safe, cherished, wanted'. He shakes his head.

'I'm sorry. I'm rubbish at this kind of thing' he apologizes.

I smile. Even now he doesn't see.

'Don't worry, you're doing just fine', I reassure him.

For a moment we just smile at each other, appreciating each other. But then the moment is gone.

'I have to go'.

I can hear the regret in his voice.

'It's ok. I know', I try and reassure him.

I get out of bed and start gathering up his clothes. When I've got everything, I head back to the bed. He is sitting on the edge of it, dangling his legs. Silently I hand him his clothes and then help him get dressed. I can't explain it, but it makes me feel slightly better if I'm the one fastening his buttons, his belt…

When he is fully clothed, we walk towards the door together. He makes to open it, but then hesitates, turning back to face me.

'I've had a great time. Thank you', he says quietly, sincerely.

I smile and press a gentle kiss on his lips.

'Me too' I tell him.

And then he is gone. Already I feel my heart aching from missing him. I take a few quick steps towards the window, hoping to catch another glimpse. I see him hurriedly walking away, without looking back. Resigned, I get back into my rumpled bed, breathing in the scent he has left behind. I close my eyes and try and catch up on some sleep.

**~c~s~**

**Reviews, as always, much appreciated :-)**


	11. Chapter 11

**It's the night after the engagement party. The party has ended and all the guests have gone home. Syed isn't ready to turn in yet.**

**~s~c~**

I wonder where he is right now, what he's doing… I glance at the clock. 2 a.m. I stare at my single bed. I'm sure he's found some bed to do anything but sleep in. Or maybe he has found someone to keep him company in that big bed of his. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. _That's what you wanted isn't it? _I mock myself. No. Never what I wanted. It's what I needed. I needed to push him away from me, so that I could finally have some peace of mind. _Well, that worked out great didn't it?_ I shake my head at my own stupidity. Peace of mind, yeah right. I'm right back where I started. Thinking about him. Obsessing over him. Longing for him.

I've been sitting here, brooding, on the uncomfortable wooden chair that stands beside my bed. Still dressed up, alone in my room, staring in the dark. The party ended hours ago. The house is quiet, everyone's asleep. Everyone but me. I got engaged tonight. Engaged. To Amira. Everyone is happy about it. We make such a lovely couple. _Love's young dream…_ That's what he called us. No one knows how much of a lie that is more than he does. I sigh and let my head rest in my hands.

The proposal was done on impulse. After that night, I felt so… vulnerable. When it's just me and him, he can make me do anything. Anything. And I'll thank him for it.

I needed for us to never be alone together again. I needed some kind of buffer. People around us… between us. I never really thought about what it would mean, being an engaged man. I just needed to stop him. Or better yet, stop myself.

I get up and study myself in the mirror. My eyes have gotten used to the dark. The image is dark and dim, but clear enough for me to see. I raise my hands to my hair and ruffle it. Thank god. I quite like wearing traditional clothes every now and then, but I hate the neat and tidy hair that seems to come with it. It just doesn't feel right. Like it isn't me. I smile approvingly at my now slightly scruffy reflection. Much better.

I glance over my shoulder at my single bed again. It looks so… tiny. I've been reluctant to get into it tonight. Because it's not the bed I want to get into. That bed is standing in the middle of Christian's apartment. I giggle as I picture that big, strong, beautiful man, cramped up in my tiny little bed. I bet his feet would stick out. I smooth the sheets fondly. A soft smile curls my lips. But that smile freezes on my lips as I remember…

**~s~c~**

'_You shouldn't have come' I told__ him._

_We got into an argument. He tried__ to reason with me, but he has no idea. Parts of it rang true though. About Amira. He told me she loves me very much. I know that. I __want__ to love her back, isn't that enough? But deep down of course I know it isn't. It didn't matter though. None of it mattered. I needed to get him out of there, stop him distracting me, messing with my head. Because he was getting to me. I was letting him get to me... I needed to push him away, forcefully push him away. _

_T__hen he touched me. He placed a hand on my heart and I felt paralyzed. It's such an intimate gesture. The gesture a lover would make. The word made my heart ache with longing. Isn't that what he is? Was? My lover? He touched me, and I forgot everything around me. I forgot about all the people in the next room. I forgot about all but him. Him I remembered. The way he touches me… Like I am precious to him. His touch can be so soft, so gentle, like he's afraid I will break if handled carelessly. It makes me feel important in a way I've never felt important to anyone else in my life. He makes me feel like to touch me is vital. As vital as it is for me to touch him._

_And__ then he'll sweep me off my feet. I'll feel like I've been swept up by a hurricane, full of exciting, thrilling, exhilarating feelings. Just so… alive. As if I was asleep before, and only now am I awake. _

_What he does to me is indescribable. I didn't even know it was possible for a person to feel this way. It's a wonderful, amazing but oh so dangerous high. I can't get enough. I literally can't get enough. _

Run… push him away… get out of here NOW_, the little voice in my head screamed at me. But it felt so good… He raised his hand to touch my face… my lips. Suddenly, I remembered the room full of people, right outside this kitchen door. Forcefully, I shook myself out of it and shoved his hand away._

'_I am marrying Amira. And don't you __ever__ touch me again!'_

_**~s~c~**_

The memory of our fight, our words, _my _words, sends shivers down my spine. My whole body shaking, I lower myself on my bed. I told him to never touch me again. Told him in no uncertain terms. But what if he ignores my words? What if he _doesn't_ stop touching me, following me, staring at me?

_And what if he does?_ I swallow. Tentatively, I measure my response. I let myself imagine him keeping his distance. Being polite. Smiling at me and Amira. Wishing us well. Suddenly, I can't breathe. I feel like I'm choking. Panicked, I get back to the mirror and stare myself in the face. _You need to calm down_, I tell myself. _Breathe dammit! _Thank god, it's working! As I feel the oxygen fill my longs, I also feel the tears streaming down my face. The sense of loss is immense. Devastated, I let myself fall back on my bed, pulling my knees up into my chest.

I don't know what to do anymore. I've been going back and forth on the whole engagement issue since I proposed. I shouldn't have done that. But I could never have rejected Christian without it. I needed to make a statement. And I needed there to be people around us. _Between us_. I've been on the brink of calling the whole thing off. I think I would have, if it weren't for Dad.

**~s~c~**

_My father told me he was proud of me. He's never told me anything like that before__ in his life. Never. Not even as a child. I remember running home, bursting with pride, telling him how I learned to tie my own shoelaces, or the time I had read my very first book. He would always look at me with that kind, bland look in his eyes. He'd smile and say something like 'That's good son', before returning to his paper, his favourite television show or whatever else he was doing. It was never a big deal. Never something to be proud of. Just… normal. No less than was expected of me. _

_It took me forever to stop hoping for more. Stop hoping he'd be proud of me. Stop expecting to be at the centre of his attention, if only just once. I learned to be satisfied with not displeasing him. With a lack of reproach. Learned to value the times I didn't disappoint him._

_After the family met with the I__mam, I felt tortured. Was I being fair on Amira? Would I ever be able to maintain any sort of 'normal' relationship with her? Would I be able to resist Christian? Would I be able to deny myself being with the one person that made everything suddenly seem worthwhile? Meeting Christian, being with him, has given me so much. Even though I kept telling myself I was wrong for feeling the way I do, I couldn't help but notice that nothing has ever felt more right. My feelings for Christian, make anything I might feel for Amira look pale and insignificant. Will that ever be enough? How can it be?_

_And that was the moment in which__ he told me... My father told me he was proud of me. Not in a big announcement kind of way, but it was there. My father. Proud. Of __me__. It should have been a joyous occasion. If not for the fact that his pride in me was so terribly misplaced. If only he knew how badly… So I did the only thing I could do. I resolved to become the son he was proud of. Become the man he thought I was. The man he wanted me to be. And just like that, I was a little boy again, angling for my father's approval. _

_**~s~c~**_

The tears that seemed to have stopped falling, now come back with a vengeance. I hate how I still ache for his approval. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing an end to the stream of tears. I've had enough. Enough for tonight. I don't want to think anymore. I just want to lie here, in the dark, in silence. Just try and get some sleep and hope for things to look better in the morning. I sigh, and with a feeling of relieve, I let myself slip into nothingness.

**~s~c~**

**This one was a bit of a strugle, but it turned out ok in the end. Please let me know what you think :-)**


	12. Chapter 12

**We're back to Christian's POV. He's been beaten up. This chapter takes place the morning after the "nasty bruise" conversation. Hope you enjoy!**

**~c~s~**

I examine myself in the mirror for what must be the tenth time today. _You stupid, stupid man! _I scold myself. I hate the fact that my stupidity is now literally plastered all over my face, for everyone to see. I carefully trace the cuts and bruises with my fingers. The aspirin I took earlier helps somewhat, reducing my earlier splitting headache to the dull throb I feel now. My face feels uncomfortable, it pulls a bit, like I'm wearing a mask. The cut on my lip keeps bothering me. Every time I forget about it, I accidently pull it open again, making it bleed.

All in all, I'm actually pretty lucky. It could have been worse. A lot worse. These are just superficial wounds that will heal quickly enough. _You should have known better_, I scold myself some more. And I should have. Normally, I can spot the weirdos a mile off. But I wasn't paying attention now was I? My head was full of him. Syed.

I can feel anger flush through my body. Anger at myself. What the hell was I thinking going to his engagement party? What was I doing there? What did I think I was going to accomplish? Did I think I was going to be able to stop him? That he would change his mind, just as soon as he clapped eyes on me? Ha! _You stupid, stupid man…_ That's exactly what you thought, isn't it?

More anger. Anger at him. For pushing me away. Again. Denying me… it… us… I hate him for it. Especially when he makes out like it's all my fault. Like I seduced him or something - against his will. I put the mirror away, done with the sight of me.

Closing my eyes, I see his face, like it was yesterday, so close… looking at me… I feel all the anger threatening to slip away. Instinctively, I try and hold on to it. I know I am on shaky ground at the moment. I have managed to avoid studying my other wounds. The ones you can't see, because they are hidden deep inside. I know my anger is my way of coping. It's keeping me going, keeping me on my feet. Keeping me from over thinking things, overanalyzing. As soon as I take a moment to think, feel… I'll lose it. And I'm not ready for that. I don't think I can take it. So I hang on to the anger.

And there's plenty to be angry about. That fucking self-loathing, self-denying piece of shit that did this to me for starters. I hate guys like that. Disgusted with themselves, but determined to blame it all on anyone but them. I wonder how many men he's hurt before he hurt me. And how many there will be after me. Another thought I push away. I know I should go to the police. Make sure that arsehole can't hurt anyone else. I know I should. But I'm not. I just can't right now. Not right now…

Ian. Barging in on me like that. Who the hell does he think he is? I wonder if he's used his keys before, getting in when I'm not around? I don't like the thought of that one bit. I'm changing the lock ASAP.

Zainab. I don't understand people like her. You think you know them, and then suddenly they say something and you realize you don't know them at all. I guess a lot of it can be blamed on ignorance. No homosexuals in Pakistan? Yeah right. I shake my head in exasperation. Ouch. Not a good idea. My headache might have subsided somewhat, but my head obviously doesn't like to be shaken just yet.

_There are no homosexuals in Pakistan._ Those are the words that send him back to me. Her words. What the hell is he playing at? One minute he is pushing me away, telling me never to touch him again. Fully resolved to live the rest of his life without me, live the life he thinks he should. Doesn't want to listen to me, talk to me, be seen with me. But somehow, he found out that I was hurt and there he was, banging on my door. Looking at me, concern in his eyes. I could see him wince when he first saw the damage on me. With two steps he was close enough to touch, staring at the ugly bruises on my face. Then… touching my head. What was he doing? Wasn't this the same man that basically told me to get the hell out of his life only one night earlier? So why was he here now? Taking pity on me? Well I don't need his pity. I need him. So I sent him away.

He was the one that told Jane. I didn't want her to know, didn't want her to worry about me. But I'm glad that she came. It felt good to talk to her. Made me feel better. I thought it was Ian that sent her over. But it wasn't Ian. It was him.

At first I thought he'd sent her because he couldn't, wouldn't, be there for me himself. Seemed to make sense at the time. Which is why I was so surprised to see him at my door again, just a few minutes after Jane left. Of course I let him in. It didn't even occur to me to deny him. That's when he came out with all the nonsense about his mum. He told me cared about me.

'I just… can't be what you want me to be…' he said.

But his eyes told me a different story. I could see him struggling again. Gone was his resolve to stay away from me. This game we're playing is exhausting me. Except that it is no game. Not to me and not to him, I'm sure of it. I tried to get real close, forcing him to react. Stupidly forgetting about my own treacherous body's wants and needs. I managed to forget about that for a bit, nursing my wounds on the outside, wilfully ignoring the ones inside. Worked just fine, until I closed the gap between us, coming ever closer. My senses were assaulted all at once by his proximity. My body desperate for the feel of his. My nose filled with his unique, enticingly masculine scent. His taste, not forgotten, seeming to still linger in my mouth. I could almost feel all rational thought slip out of my head, making room for the want, the need, the excruciating need of him and only him.

I did manage to register that it wasn't just me. I could tell he was equally affected. I could tell even before he spoke with that quiet voice of his, swallowing, his lips parting slightly, his eyes shimmering.

'That's a nasty bruise'.

And then I blew it.

'You gonna kiss it better?'

I regretted it the moment the words came out of my mouth. Too much. Way too much. And just like that, he was gone.

I pick up the mirror once more. I'm going stir crazy cooped up in here. As much as I hate the thought of people staring at me, I don't think I can stay inside this flat for a minute longer. Might as well go into work. I pretend that it has nothing to do with wanting to see him again. But even my own reflection isn't buying it. _You stupid, stupid man... _Staying angry at Syed might be something I'm physically incapable of, but I make up for it by staying plenty angry at myself. Wistfully, I put the mirror down again.

And then I let myself think about the other person I'll be likely to run into if I go into work. Zainab. An excellent target for my pent up rage. I haven't forgotten about her little speech at Bushra's party, or her hurtful remarks about the way I dress. But then her and Amira decide they want me to help organize the engagement party, suddenly I'm useful to her. Just as long as I'm not to 'in her face' about it I suppose. For a moment I amuse myself with the thought of her, catching me and Syed going at it in the unit. I imagine the look on her face, and snort back the laughter. Ouch. Forgot about the ribs there. And the lip. Yep, bleeding again. With a sigh, I grab another tissue and press it against my lip. It'll stop in a minute.

In the meantime, I have made up my mind. I'm going into work. Let them think what they want. Yes. That's right. I can feel the fight bubbling up inside me. I don't have to give in. The world can go fuck itself for all I care.

Twenty minutes later I'm leaving the flat. As soon as I've set foot outside, part of me starts screaming at me to just go back in. Close the blinds. Crawl into bed. Turn down the lights. Just hide under the duvet, to close my eyes and ears to the nasty world outside. But I'm ignoring that. Burying it deep inside, not letting anyone see. I hold my head up high and look defiantly at anyone who dares to look my way. There. That's better. I clench my teeth and keep on walking till I reach the unit. _Alright_, I tell myself, _here we go_. I square my shoulders and open the door.

**~c~s~**

**Reviews, as always, much apreciated!**


	13. Chapter 13

**This is the first time I've arived at a part of the story I have written about before. I you like, you can read a previous fic of mine called 'The safe house' which would fit in between chapter 12 and this new chapter 13. It's not necassary for the flow of the story to read it though. This chapter is from Christian's POV.**

**~c~s~**

I wake up, rested, relaxed, for the first time in days. It takes me a while to notice something's different. I open my eyes and smile as I realise the difference I notice is him. Syed.

'Hi there sleepyhead', he whispers, and kisses me on the nose.

I stretch luxuriously and lift my head up from his arm. He smiles down at me and starts wriggling his arm and shoulder with a blissful sound, bending it, stretching it and massaging it.

'My arm decided to take a little nap with you', Syed explains.

'Why didn't you wake me? I'm way too heavy for you…' I worry.

But he just smiles at me and says: 'You looked like you needed the rest. Besides, I don't mind'.

He never ceases to surprise me.

'What time is it?' I ask, stifling back a yawn.

'It's almost seven. I need to get back for dinner soon', he answers, with a hint of regret in his voice.

I swallow my disappointment, determined not to expect anything more than he can give me right now.

'I understand', I say quietly.

He hesitates. It seems like he has something he wants to say, but for some reason he is nervous about it. I watch him swallow a couple of times while his fingers fidget with the sheets. I want to say something, ask him what's up, but I bite my tongue.

'Christian… I… I could come back later for a bit', he says, not looking at me, 'I mean… if you want' he finishes lamely.

I try and act casual, but as I can't repress the huge grin splattered all over my face, I doubt I'm very convincing.

'I'd like that', I tell him.

I watch the radiant smile forming on his face and bask in its warmth.

'Right, I'd better be off then', he says, climbing out of bed.

'Is it ok if I take a shower first?'

I nod. He rests his arms on the bed and leans over me to give me a slow, sensuous kiss.

'Hmmmm…' is the little sound he makes as he lets go.

He starts to look around, probably looking for his clothes that are haphazardly all over the floor.

'What did you do with my pants?' he inquires, furrowing his brow.

I try and retrace my steps, vaguely remembering swirling them around my finger and then letting go. I think they landed somewhere…

'Aha, found them!' I say, as I lie on my stomach, head hanging over the edge of the bed. He scurries around the bed and bends down to pick up both our pants, lying intimately entangled together on the floor. I would have picked them up myself of course, put his picking them up has the added bonus of a spectacular view of his delicious arse. So I just lay there and watch, sighing happily as that delicious arse makes its way to my bathroom.

'Stop looking at me like that you perv!' he says accusingly as he pulls the bathroom door closed with a wink.

'Shut up, you know you love it!' I shout, loud enough so he can hear me through the closed door. I can just hear his muffled laughter before the sound of running water drowns it out.

As I roll on my back and stare at the ceiling, I feel bubbles of happiness rise up in me. The grin on my face has become so wide, it actually hurts my face. My lip has probably split again, but I couldn't care less. It is exhilarating, feeling happy again after being miserable for days. First there was the hurt when he denied what we had together. Making it seem like it was nothing, insignificant. Then there was the anger, after he pushed me away, rejected me, telling me never to touch him again. After that it was the pain of being attacked and the anger for letting it happen. Dark feelings, hovering over me like a storm cloud, leaving a vile taste in my mouth. Making me feel like there wasn't any room for any feelings of happiness ever again. Luckily, I was wrong.

I remember him standing there, waiting for me, outside the police station. I couldn't understand why he was suddenly there again, caring about me, looking after me, waiting for me. But I forgot all that when he asked me to take him home. It was wonderful. We talked for a bit. He told me he wasn't going anywhere. And somehow… I believed him. Before we knew it, we ended up in bed again. I don't understand how, every time we are together, it is so different, yet the same. Both familiar and exciting and new. Safe, but thrilling and earth shattering all at the same time.

**~c~s~**

_This time, he takes__ the lead and I let him._

'_Lay down', he commands softly, while pushing my shoulders down on the bed. Slowly, he starts to undress me, taking care not to hurt me. He unbuttons my shirt and pushes it off my shoulders. I help him out by lifting myself up slightly. He manages to free me of my sleeves and tosses the shirt aside. With one movement, he has pulled his own shirt over his head, throwing it after mine. I watch as his dark hair bristles with electricity for a moment before it settles down again. I reach out my hand to touch it, but he avoids it._

'_Uh uh', he reproaches me m__ockingly, 'hands off mister'. _

_I lay back down, expecting him to unbuckle my belt next. But he doesn't. We've lost our shoes and socks somewhere between the sofa and the bed, so we now are both only wearing our jeans. He seems in no hurry to do anything about that. Confused, I look into his eyes. He is straddling me, examining me with a thoughtful expression on his face. I open my mouth to ask him what he's thinking about, but he quickly leans over me and presses his finger gently on my lips._

'_Shhh…'_

_My eyes widen as I just wait for his next move._

_The pained look in his eyes startles me as I don't understand it. Then he carefully places his hand flat against the right side of my face, covering my bruises._

'_I hate that someone's hurt you', he says, with a tremble in his voice._

'_I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…' he says over and over again as he starts pressing tiny, feathery kisses on my bruises. He is very thorough, looking for any part of my skin that is cut, bruised or tarnished in anyway and giving it the same treatment. He finds them all over me, whispering his apology against my skin before he kisses it. _

'_It's ok…' I say. Because it is, now that he's here._

_When he's convinces he has found every last spot, he returns to the one on my lip and kisses it softly._

'_I'm afraid to kiss you, you might start bleeding again'_

_He looks at me with a hint of worry in his eyes._

'_I don't care', I assure him__, 'come here'._

_I reach up and pull him on top of me. Not needing much persuasion, he gently presses his lips against mine. He takes hold of my hands and raises them above my head. Then he starts sliding his hands teasingly along my arms, down the sensitive skin of my sides. He repeats the motion, over and over again, until I want to scream with frustration. I make to move my hands, meaning to place them on his hips, but he stops me before I have the chance. I want to protest, but he just intensifies our kiss. I give in and just enjoy the feeling of his hands on me, his lips on mine and our tongues darting around each other. The only sounds I hear are the soft, approving little moans he lets out between kisses, my own desperate groans and the rubbing sound our jeans make as he repeatedly rubs his groin against mine. My nerve endings are zinging with his sounds, his smell, his taste, his touches. _

_**~c~s~**_

As I hear the water being turned off, I decide it's time to get out of bed. Reluctantly I pull on my jeans, not bothering with anything else. I look up to see him zooming out of the bathroom, wearing only his tight fitting pants. He flashes me a quick smile before he starts gathering up his clothes and getting dressed. _Pity that_, I think to myself.

'Ok, I'm going now. I'll be back after I'm sure everyone's asleep. Should be about one I think' he promises.

I follow him to the door. I open my arm for him and he slips inside, hugging me as tightly as he dares. One more kiss, and he's about to leave.

'Wait!' I suddenly say excitedly.

I hurry over to the table and grab something from the bottom of the fruit bowl. I walk back over to him and press it in his hand. It's my spare key.

'So you can come in any time' I say, suddenly nervous.

He looks down at the key in his hands.

'You sure about this?' he asks hesitantly.

'Yeah… yes, I'm sure. Keep it' I say, as I wrap his hand around the key with mine.

'Alright than' he says, a smile on his beautiful face.

He gives me a quick kiss and then he's out the door.

**~c~s~**

**Reviews, as always, much appreciated :-)**


	14. Chapter 14

**This chapter begins where chapter 13 ended. Amira allert! It's from Syed's POV.**

**~s~c~**

Amira. I wasn't expecting her to be here. Mum must have invited her for dinner.

'Hello princess' I greet her cheerfully, pecking her on the cheek.

'There you are babe! We were wondering where you were. I've been dying to show you this!'

For the next fifteen minutes I have to endure looking at god knows how many different flower arrangements, colour schemes and test menus. It would have been a lot longer too, but thankfully, dinner is ready. All through dinner Amira and Mum are talking, sometimes bickering, sometimes joyously agreeing about anything and everything to do with this wedding. My wedding. I have to remember that. Although at times, I wonder if _they_ even remember it. Both Amira and Mum want to tell Dad, Tambo and I every little detail about the wedding. But they rarely require a response. I smile, nod in what are hopefully the right places, sharing sneaky incredulous looks with both Dad and Tambo. In the end I just tune them out, their voices nothing but a high-pitched, annoying sound somewhere in the background.

The moment I do, of course, my thoughts go back to him. I know he's waiting for me. That thought makes me feel so indescribably excited that I just want to make my excuses right now and rush back to him. As I have no excuses to give that will allow me to leave, I settle for remembering the time we shared this afternoon. I slip a hand in my pocket and capture the key he gave me in my hand. I stroke it, and remember the look in his eyes when he gave me this. I remember how he let me take control, let me take care of him. I remember how happy I felt, just to be near him, just to touch him… I remember it all.

After dinner, the torture goes on.

'Syed babe, please remind your mum I don't do yellow'

'Mum, you know Amira doesn't like yellow. Makes her feel like a duck, remember?' I indulge her.

Mum shrugs, obviously offended that I'm siding with Amira. I wish they would just leave me out of it. I hate their attempts to make me choose sides. What the hell do I care about the colour of napkins, tablecloth, roses, dresses, god knows what… But I keep my fake smile firmly in place and pretend to pay attention.

Around ten, Amira starts packing up her things, ready to go home.

'Will you walk me home babe?'

'Of course I will darling' I say, as is expected of me.

She keeps up the chatter, mostly complaints about Mum's interference, all the way to her front door.

'I've had a lovely time tonight Syed. I'm so happy with the way we can share important things like this' she says.

For a moment I don't know what to say. Is she for real? It suddenly becomes crystal clear to me that my fiancée, the woman I'm supposed to love and share the rest of my life with, the one person who should be closer to me than any other person in the world, doesn't really know me at all.

'I… well… that's nice princess. Goodnight'

As soon as I tell her goodnight, she tilts her head expectantly, closing her eyes. This is the part where I am supposed to kiss my fiancée goodnight. So I do.

I walk home in a daze. As it's close by, I find myself in front of our door in no time. I decide I'm not ready to go in. So I walk around for a bit, gathering my thoughts. I don't understand what has changed. I've made my decision, I've made my choice, and that choice is Amira. I always knew it was a compromise. I knew it wasn't what I really wanted. But I had accepted that. I picked her because she was pretty, the kind of girl that would make men envy me. And I liked her, felt quite fond of her actually. Giving her a chaste kiss, holding her hand, giving her a hug, none of that bothered me before. It's true it didn't affect me the way the touch of a girlfriend is supposed to affect a man. It felt alright, safe, fine before. Like touching a female relative. I thought that was enough for now, and that perhaps my feelings would grow.

Tonight I realized the opposite is true. I resented her for expecting me to kiss her. I really didn't want to do it, had to physically force myself. For the first time I have serious doubts, doubts if I'll be able to go through with this. If I can't even bring myself to give her a meaningless, chaste, nothing little kiss goodbye, than how am I ever going to be able to be any kind of husband to her? Our upbringing prevents us from being all too physical now, but what about after we're married? She'll expect a whole lot more than a simple kiss after we become husband and wife.

Suddenly, my head is filled with images of Amira, in my arms. Her lying in our bed, waiting for me. Her looking at me, desire in her eyes, starting to undress. Everything inside me screams in rejection. No! I don't want this! I can't… It takes all the strength that I have in me to push these thoughts away again, back in the little room they occupy in my brain. I mentally lock the door and vow to keep them there, hidden away for as long as I can manage. _You'll have to look at it someday, _the voice inside my head insists. I know that. I do. But not today. I don't want to deal with this right now. Not yet. Satisfied that I have successfully pushed all unwanted thoughts away, I make my way home. I feel slightly better. Who knows what the future will hold? All I know, is that I can't think about it right now.

There is only one image that I haven't been able to block. It's been with me from the moment I placed my lips on hers. The image of a pair of startling green eyes, looking at me, filled with hurt. And try and ignore it as I might, it won't go away.

**~s~c~**

The house is quiet. I hold my breath as I make my way silently down the stairs, avoiding the creaking third step. At the bottom of the stairs, I put on my shoes, unlock the door and pull it closed. The tiny little click it makes when closed, sounds as loud as if I slammed it shut. I freeze, listening for sounds of stirring at the other side. When I hear nothing, I relax, breathing in the cool night air. I keep my eyes cast down and make my way over to his place, key clamped and ready in my hand.

It feels strange, letting myself in like this. I take the stairs two at a time and then I'm through the door, inside his flat. I take a minute to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. That's odd really, I'm not very late. I expected him to still be up, waiting for me.

'Sy? Is that you?'

Something is wrong, I can feel it. The sound of his voice is coming form the bed. It sounds muffled, like he has his head underneath the blankets or something.

'Christian? What's wrong?' I ask, rushing to his side.

My eyes have adjusted enough to see him, laying there, his huge body curled up into a little ball, hidden underneath the duvet. Gently, I pull it back from his face. He responds by curling up even more, cradling a pillow in his arms.

'Christian… please… Tell me what's wrong. You're scaring me now' I whisper, laying my hand on his arm.

Finally, he looks up at me. The desperation in his eyes takes me by surprise, making me worry even more. He swallows a couple of times. Then he says: 'I don't know Sy… I don't know!'

My heart is aching for him. He's hurting and I can't stand to see him like this. Without thinking about it, I undress myself and slip into his bed. I press myself against the back of his body, knees behind his, chest against his back and then I just envelop him in my arms, holding him tight. His body feels rigid in my arms, like he is frozen. When I start pressing kisses on his back, I can feel shudders violently rock his frame. Desperately, I try and hold him tighter, try and sooth his body with mine.

'Sy…'

His voice sounds broken.

'I'm here' I say. It's all I can say.

Then he turns around in my arms. Abandoning his pillow, he wraps his arms around me instead. We hold each other tight. I gently stroke his back, shushing what I hope are comforting words into his ear.

'It's ok… I'm here…' I repeat over and over again.

The shudders that are going through him are becoming more violent. Only when I feel the wetness on my shoulder, do I realize what is causing those shudders. They are repressed sobs. That's when I force him to lift up his head from my shoulder and look at me. Cradling his face, I wipe away a single tear with my thumb.

'It's ok', I say again, 'I'm here for you. You can let go now'. I smile at him encouragingly, kiss him softly and then lower his head back on my shoulder.

I can feel him unravel in my arms. With an audible sob, he finally releases the tears he's been trying to repress, weeping in my arms. I kiss the top of his head and hold on tight.

**~s~c~**

**Reviews, as always, much appreciated :-)**


	15. Chapter 15

**This is from Syed's POV. It's the evening of the 'phonecall**

**~s~c~**

It's been over two weeks now. Those two weeks have been both the worst and the best two weeks of my life.

They've been dark and miserable because of his pain, his grief, his sorrow. It is just plain wrong to see that strong, beautiful, powerful man crumble into a miserable heap of hurt.

But it's been wonderful and light as well, because we've spent so much of it together. He lets me help him, comfort him, hold him... He let's me look after him. Be there for him. And that has meant the world to me.

I spend every second I can slip away from my life, with him. I've learned to be vague with both family and Amira, not saying where I'm going or where I've been. I just let them assume I'm with one ore the other, when in reality I am with him.

I love looking after him. I had no idea it could be like this. I always assumed it was just me needing Christian, that big mountain of a man. Someone to lean on. A shoulder to cry on. It never occurred to me that I could be the same for him some day. That he would ever need me as much as I need him. It makes me feel strong, capable, trusted, needed… I almost feel guilty that I could get so much from something that has caused him that much pain.

You can hardly see the scars now, except for when you look into his eyes. He hasn't left his apartment in weeks. Sometimes he doesn't even bother to get dressed. Just sits around in his bathrobe all day. When it gets really bad, like that first day, he doesn't even get out of bed.

**~s~c~**

I'm in the unit, on my own for a change. It was pretty quiet today and I offered to do the cleaning up. Mum gratefully accepted and went home, mumbling some insulting comments about how some people should get off their lazy bums and stop milking a few bruises into an extended holiday. I had to literally bite my tongue not to snap at her. I can still taste the blood in my mouth. I used all the pent up frustration to go on a cleaning frenzy, which means I'm about done. Good. I've been dying to see him. It's early yet and I've been to the shops yesterday, so we'll have plenty of time together.

For some reason, I instinctively know exactly what to do when I'm around him. I can't explain it, but I just know I have to bide my time for now. He'll have to go out eventually, but he's just not ready yet. Not while that animal is still out there. All he needs from me is my support, my care, my presence. And I give it willingly. I'll know when the time is right. And I'll know what to do when it is. I know he'll be fine. I don't know how I know this, but I do. I have complete confidence in him. He is still the strong, powerful man he always was. He's just forgotten it for a while. But lucky for him, he has me to remind him.

I jump as my phone vibrates in my pocket. Seeing his name flash up on the display makes me smile.

'Hello gorgeous' I say

'Sy. I've missed you'.

'Yeah? I've missed you too'.

'Look Syed, you don't fancy coming over do you?' he asks.

I don't like the sound of his voice, like he can't imagine I would want to come over, spend time with him.

'Of course I do. When?'

'I don't know… now?'

'I'll be right over'.

I can hear his relieved smile.

'Great. I'll… cook or something'.

'Sounds good. I'm on my way'.

**~s~c~**

We spend a lovely evening together. He seems a bit better. He tells me about Roxy visiting him, cheering him up. I think it's good he's having some contact with the outside world again. Progress.

After dinner, we sit comfortably together on the sofa. He's got the TV on, flipping channels, while we chat about our day. When I looked in on him at lunchtime, he was still in his trusted old bathrobe. But he's showered and gotten dressed now, looking stunning as ever in his black t-shirt and black jeans. I'm getting used to the stubble, getting to quite like the feel of it.

'Why are you sitting all the way over there' he complains.

He holds out his arm and I snuggle up underneath it. The satisfied little sigh he lets out, sends goose bumps down my spine. Feeling my shiver, he pulls me in to him, letting me absorb his body heat.

'Ugh… can you change the channel please. I hate watching surgery. Why people would want to watch that, with all that… blood. Gross!' I exclaim.

He laughs at me, but changes the channels non the less.

'How's that?' he asks, cocking his eyebrow at me.

'You're hilarious', I say, glaring at him.

'What?' he asks innocently.

'You know I hate those cooking shows. It's like I'm back at work. After a day of slaving away in the kitchen, the last thing I feel like is watching someone else do the same. You know that very well mister. Now hand me that remote', I sternly say.

'Yes Sy' he answers meekly, handing over the remote.

Meekly, yeah right. Who does he think he's kidding there? I snort and start searching for something decent to watch.

'How's this?'

'Meh… don't do nature' he complains.

'This one?'

He just yawns and pretends to snore.

'This one than?'

'Cartoons? What am I, twelve?'

'Well you're acting like a child, so I thought it might be fitting' I tease him.

'Oy you cheeky sod! Come here you' he demands as I squeal and try and get away from him. I'm no match for him though, it takes him no time at all to catch me and tickle me to death.

'Christian…' I beg, only just managing to get the name out between fits of giggles.

'Yes darling? Anything you want?' he enquires, keeping up the merciless tickling.

'Christian… please…' I plead, weak with laughter under his attack.

'Please…tickle me some more? Sure Sy, no problem'

And with a wicked glint in his eyes he ups his attempts, tickling me beneath my armpits, along my sides, behind my knees…

'Stop… pleeeeeeeease…' I croak, with the last bit of breath left in me.

Instantly, he stops.

'You should've just said' he scorns.

Bastard. I'm too weak to reply, to week to aim the vicious kick I'd like to deal him. But then he smiles, puts me in his lap and kisses me. All plans of revenge vanish from my mind just like that as I happily return his kiss.

After that, we sit contentedly for a bit, watching the cartoon channel after all. He chuckles at Wile E. Coyote's hopeless attempts to catch Road Runner. After that it's Scooby Doo and he has me in fits of laughter again as he keeps imitating the 'Scooby-dooby-dooooooooooooo's'.

There's only one little glitch to the evening. It's when he's startled by someone slamming a car door shut and then shouting something. He cringes, closing his eyes. I slip my arms around him and hug him tight.

'It's ok… Just a car door. It's ok… ' I whisper, pressing gentle kisses all over his face. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

He opens his eyes and smiles at me bravely.

'You're right. I'm sorry' he says.

'Don't worry about it' I shrug.

'Now… can I tempt you with a Scooby snack perhaps?' I try.

That elicits a genuine smile in return.

'Yeah go on then. What did you have in mind?' he enquires.

'Oh, I believe I can think of something' I answer, smiling sweetly in return.

**~s~c~**

**Reviews, as always, much appreciated :-)**


	16. Chapter 16

**It's Christian's POV. This chapter starts with Christian watching Syed sleep on the first morning of Ramadan.**

**~c~s~**

I didn't know any man could be this beautiful. The sight of him, lying in my bed, takes my breath away. I let my eyes travel over the smooth, golden skin of his exposed back. Beneath it I can see the slight indentation of his spine, the rise of his shoulder blades and the workings of the muscles of his strong, lean body. His face is turned towards me, cheeks slightly flushed, features relaxed in sleep.

I shift in my seat. Guiltily I realize that it'll make him feel uncomfortable to find me sitting here, next to the bed, staring at him. I crept out of bed around three 'o clock and have been sitting here admiring him ever since. I can't seem to help myself. If I had stayed in bed with him for even a second longer, I wouldn't have been able to keep my hands off him. But I know the alarm is set for a ridiculously early hour as it is and I want him to rest as much as possible before he has to get up to eat. I feel guilty enough already for keeping him awake so late last night, though I didn't hear him complaining…

I must look like an idiot, smiling like a loon. I just feel so happy right now, it seems like I'm almost bursting with glee. It makes it difficult to remember how very differently I felt not even 24 hours ago. I glance over at the door. Only the fact that underneath all this happiness I can still sense the remnants of my fear, makes the memory feel real.

**~c~s~**

_I run up the stairs like the very hounds__ of hell are chasing me.. I hurriedly unlock the door, rush inside and lock it behind me, sliding the chain in place. My heart pounding, my breath heavy and ragged, I lean my back against the door and let myself slide down to the floor in a heap of relief. I still have my prize, a bag of sugar, clasped securely in my grasp. _I did it,_ is all I can think, _I really did it… _I still can't quite believe it. After hiding myself away for over 2 weeks, I've finally gathered up enough courage to leave the safe sanctuary that is my flat. And all because of him. Syed._

_It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Don't get me wrong, I was scared shitless the whole time. I felt like everyone was looking at me. The buzz of activity, the being surrounded by other people, overwhelmed me.. I freaked out when someone accidently bumped into me. Jumped whenever someone brushed past me. When Patrick talked to me in the shop, I didn't know how to respond. I just gave him a vague, stiff smile and hurried out. Only the sight of Syed, his encouraging smile, grounded me somewhat. Thanks to him, I was able to get myself home again, safe and sound. I breathe a sigh of relieve._

_But __that's not the point. The point is, it didn't kill me now did it. In the end, it's just Albert square, just the Minute Mart, just… people. It's a comfort to know the police caught the creep that caused all this. But my fear was never really about him. I can see that now. I haven't totally recovered yet, I know that. If I had, I wouldn't be sitting here, on the floor, my hands shaking, having difficulty to get my breath and my heart under control. But I know I will be now. All the sooner for having Sy's support._

_My heart has calmed down a bit and so has my breathing. My thoughts turn to Syed. I'm glad he made me do this. _'I think you're superman'. _That's what he said to me. I smile. I liked that. It's what I want to be, his 'superman'. I want to be strong and capable for him, rescue him if he needs it, protect him, us, from the outside work. That's what superman does, isn't it? What he does not do, is hide away in a dark corner after someone tries to hurt him. I'm done with that. I'll not pretend the fear, the pure terror I felt has dissolved over night. I'm still scared, terrified even. But I'm resolved to not let it dictate my life again. Never again._

_**~c~s~**_

He mumbles something incoherent, drawing my attention back towards his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful like this. Relaxed. At home. Like he belongs here. Like this is our bed now, his and mine alone.

The time we've had together has been wonderful. He has really been there for me, looking after me, encouraging me, pushing me when I needed it. _Superman._ I would have laughed at anyone calling me something silly like that. But not him. When he said it to me, looking at me in that way that only he can… He makes me want to be the man he sees as he looks at me.

He promised me he'd stay the night. And he has. I don't know what he said to that mother of his and I don't care. All I care is that he did it for _me_ and now he is here, with _me_. Sleeping in my bed. I feel a little twinge of regret as I remember what he told me about Ramadan. No sex for weeks… It'll be difficult, I can tell you that right now. But I'll do it. For him, I'll do pretty much anything. All he has to do is ask.

**~c~s~**

_He looks at me nervously, like he's worried I'll reject him over this. __I repress a flash of annoyance at this. Sex has been a big part of what we are from the start, I won't deny that. It's to be expected that he would doubt if we, I, could do without it for so long. If we'd survive without it._

'_Well', I say, "we'd better make this one count than hadn't we'. _

_He looks at me, startled for a__ moment. Then I watch as relief flushes through him. He smiles at me and nods._

'_I suppose we should. Got any suggestions?' he inquires, eyebrow raised._

'_Oh, I think I might have. How about this for starters?'_

_I sink down on my knees, positioning myself between his legs. He claws his hands in the sofa cushions, looking down on me expectantly. I shoot him a wicked smile and cup his still clothed groin. I watch him contentedly as I feel his erection swell to live underneath my touch. He bites his bottom lip, stifles a groan and opens his eyes wide. I lean into him, claiming his mouth with mine, leaving my hand where it is, gently applying some added pressure. As his soft mouth responds to my kiss, his hips buck involuntarily against my hand. My delighted laugh is stifled by our kiss. _

_Our kiss starts slowly, but soon builds up to an urgent frenzy. His hands slide over my back, clawing the material of my sweater, trying to get it off. He lets go of my lips with a regretful sigh in order to pull the sweater over my head. His hands map out the now naked skin of my back and chest. A shiver of lust ripples through me. He has started to unbutton his shirt, or tried to at least. His unsteady hands are making a mess of things as he groans in frustration. I push his hands away without ceremony and start unbuttoning his shirt with decisive movements. When done, I push it back over his shoulders, impatiently tugging him free of his sleeves. When I see the exposed skin of his chest, I press my open lips against it hungrily. I lap at his skin, relishing the taste of him on my tongue. Not satisfied, I suck in his skin to fill my mouth, licking him, biting him, almost hurting him with my untamed desire. _When will this ever be enough_, I wonder. I can't see how it ever will._

_**~c~s~**_

The alarm will go off any minute now. I take my last chance to drink in the sight of him. I can't resist, carefully pulling down the sheets a bit, exposing a little more of his mouth watering skin. I imagine myself bending over him, following the trail of his spine with my mouth. The memory of last night is so tangible, that I can almost feel the way that golden skin would feel against my lips…

_Beep beep beep…_

For one second, I think he'll just sleep through the alarm. But no. He turns off the alarm, gets up and heads for the kitchen.

'I've got to eat' he says.

I smile. He doesn't even say good morning. I shake my head and find that I just don't care. I'm happy. Really really happy.

'Morning gorgeous' I say.

And then I lift myself out of my chair and go and get my man some breakfast.

**~c~s~**

**Reviews, as always, much appreciated :-)**


	17. Chapter 17

**It's Amira's (and Sid's) party. Christian just found out that Syed lied to him about the "no nookie during Ramadan" rule. Oops. It's Syed's P.O.V.**

**A big thank you to xchryedforeverx for helping me out with this one :-)**

**~s~c~**

I feel like a cat being cornered, willing to do anything if I can just to escape those piercing, accusing eyes. I should have known this could happen. I should have realized there was a real chance he would find me out. Find out that I lied to him. That way at least I might have been ready for it. I might have been prepared enough to give him a satisfactory answer. Because right now I sure can't. It's too… complicated.

'You're so full on. Sometimes… I feel like I can't breathe around you'. I swallow. I can't believe I told him that. Not that it isn't true but… it's only part of it.

'I can't help how it is I feel about you' he answers. 'It's getting dark. If you work out how it is you feel about me… I'll be waiting'.

And with a mumbled excuse to Amira and Sid, he is gone. I stare after him in consternation.

A big, very persistent part of me wants to head after him, fall at his feet, just do anything to be near him. But I resist. Because this time I need to be ready when I face him. I need to have answers. And for that to happen, I need some time to think. I need to be alone, but that won't be possible for a couple of hours at least. First, I need to keep Amira happy by staying a little while longer. Then I need to make sure I'm home in time to break fast and pray my fourth namaz of the day.

'Can you at least try and look as if you're having fun? This is supposed to be a party you know'

Amira. I hadn't noticed her coming up to me. I really should make a bit of an effort. She's been complaining about us spending so little time together lately. I feel a pang of guilt as I remember why exactly I haven't been able to see her much.

'I'm sorry. It's a lovely party princess' I assure her.

Apparently that is all she needs. I spent the rest of my time at the party on Amira's arm, smiling politely, laughing at everyone's jokes and looking interested in whatever anyone (mostly Amira) has to say. This seems to be all she requires for now. I let my shoulders relax and my mind wander off.

**~s~c~**

I heave a sigh of relief as I close my bedroom door behind me. It's been a long night. Observing Ramadan during summer means that I can't break fast until late. What with finishing today's prayers and going to mosque, only now do I have a minute to think about what happened. I smile wryly and plonk myself down on my bed. Now isn't that exactly the problem?

Lying comes easy to me. I'm very good at it. I'm well aware of the fact that I shouldn't of course. But I haven't been able to live my life without lies for as long as I can remember. At some point in my life, I realized that I couldn't be the son my parents expected me to be. They expected me to be the best. The best at anything and everything. The best son, the best student, the best Muslim, the best friend… And all I wanted was for them to never be disappointed in me. So I studied hard, but cheated if I needed it to pass a test. I studied the Qur'an dutifully, but would never ask a question lest I betray I didn't completely understand the full meaning of all the words yet. I was friendly and polite whenever I was shown off to people visiting, but I would always make up an excuse so I could escape before the performance started to suffocate me. I rarely got caught out.

And now I've lied to Christian. I told him Ramadan meant no sex, neglecting to say that that was just from dawn till dusk. How can I explain to him why I did that? I don't know how. I think I might be able to explain it to someone religious, whether they were Muslim, Catholic or Hindu. But I don't know how to explain my faith to someone who doesn't seem to believe in anything but living life to the fullest.

Ramadan is a special time for me. It is of course for every Muslim, but I feel it is more than that. Ramadan is the time of year that I concentrate on the spiritual. Although the fasting can be tough, the first days especially, I really enjoy the connection I feel to god and my faith. I'm used to spending most of Ramadan in a near meditative state, abstaining from things like music, films, books, that I normally enjoy, focussing instead on my prayers and the Qur'an.

How can I explain to Christian that he interferes with all that? When I'm around him, my heart, my head, my whole being is filled with only him. He is the kind of man that cannot be ignored. But to me, he is even more than that. He is like an addiction. Whenever I'm near him, I want to reach out and touch his kind face, his gentle hands, his powerful body… My nose fills with that unique scent that is him, and I want to nuzzle his skin, breathing him in. My eyes feast upon him, taking in every last part of him from the soft curve of his ear, to the curly hair high on his chest, the pronounced muscles of his thighs… My breath quivers at the thought. Being near him is all it takes to overwhelm me, but when he wraps his arms around me and covers my mouth with his, I am truly lost… God how I love to loose myself in his embrace, give myself up to him, surrender to him… I open myself up, show my vulnerability, but the fact that he does the same for me, makes me feel strong and vigorous instead of weak and dependent. Whenever I am with him, I want to stay with him forever. Whenever I'm not with him, I want to rectify that situation straight away and hurry off and find him.

And I know I've been ignoring Amira lately, spending as little time with her as I can get away with. Christian needed me and I wanted to be there for him. Now that he is well again, back to his old self, I suppose I really should start spending a little more time with my fiancée. She's been hinting as much. I'm not prepared to give her up, not prepared to give up the life she represents. But at the same time, I don't think I could ever give him up. I try not to think about it, try not to think of what that means. How can I marry Amira, be with her, create our own little family, when I cannot stop thinking about Christian? Cannot stop wanting him, needing him, desiring him? Whenever I let myself think these thoughts, desperation fills me and I have trouble breathing. Desperation, because I cannot see a solution. Desperation because of course, somewhere deep inside of me, I realize something will have to give. But that is a truth I cannot face. And since I cannot lie to myself like I do others, I choose not to think about it. I divide up my time, my life, my mind into separate compartments and put each part safely away. I will hide from the truth just a little while longer.

Ramadan is a special time of year for me. Important. Sacred. I lied to Christian in order to protect that part of who I am. How do I explain to him that I need some distance, some time away from him, some time to free myself of him so I can get some of that sacred time back? So that I can concentrate on something bigger than him, bigger than us? Ramadan is not only about abstaining from food, not only about saying my prayers in time, not only about going to mosque. It's not supposed to be. It's a time to contemplate my faith, feel the importance, the relevance to my life. A time to feel close to god, study the Qur'an, learning, understanding, comprehending… And for me to do that, for me to truly feel that, live it, breathe it, I need some distance. Distance from him. But how do I explain that to him? How do I explain that to him, when at the same time distance from him is the very last thing I want? It would be so easy to give in and just go to him. But that would mean me losing an important part of myself. The one part of me that I have never felt ashamed of, never felt a failure at. The one part of me I never had cause to doubt. The simple truth of it is, that I can't. I can't and I don't want to.

**~s~c~**

I've not slept much. I didn't go over to Christian's last night. How could I, when I still don't know how to explain myself to him?

'Syeeeeed! Awww… you look terrible' Amira calls out to me from across the square.

'Thanks. I couldn't sleep'. Well at least that part is true.

'Awww… thinking about me?'

Again that pang of guilt at that question. And then another one as I come out with the easy, automatic lie.

'Who else?' I smile insincerely.

'Hmmm… looks like someone had a good night though'.

I turn to see who she's talking about and feel my heart plummet. Christian. And the man he is with is none other than… James. It's like my worst nightmare has come true. I can feel myself get physically sick at the sight of them. I'm vaguely aware of Amira saying she has to go, but I don't really take it in. I mumble something about calling her and then watch helplessly as Christian slings his arm around James's shoulder and walks off with him.

I can't believe he'd do this. Really can't. Or maybe I can and that is the problem. All I know for sure is that I can't bear the uncertainty. One way or the other, I have to know what's going on. So when I see them entering the café, I follow them in to confront them.

**~s~c~**

**Reviews, as always, much appreciated :-)**


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry for the delay people. I'll try and make up for it soon :-)**

**It's the morning of the famous alley scene. Christian's POV**

I can feel the dream slipping away even as I try and cling onto it. There is only a moment of confusion before reality hits me like a brick wall. The warm body next to me is not Syed's. The man who's been my boyfriend for over a week now is not Syed. The face I'll see when I open my eyes is not that of Syed.

Every morning I go through the same kind of thing. I'm really trying here. Desperately trying. I mean, James and I have been friends for years. And I love him, I really do. It's just… not enough. Not nearly enough.

'Morning love' he mumbles sleepily.

I force a smile and compel myself to answer.

'Morning gorgeous'

I open my eyes and fake a big grin.

'Got any plans for today?' James enquires, before a big yawn grips him.

'It's Sunday. I have no plans beyond going back to sleep for a bit longer' I tell him, as I close my eyes again.

'What if' he starts, and I squint to see him lean on one elbow, placing his free arm across my chest, 'we invite some people over for lunch? I've gone a bit mad with the weekend groceries, so we've got plenty'

I groan, reluctantly accepting that sleep is out of the question right now.

'People? Like who?' I ask.

'I don't know, how about Jane and Ian? She is your sister you know!' he shouts at me as I hide my head underneath my pillow with a groan. Then he starts pulling at the pillow until I give in and ads: 'Or how about that Syed and his girlfriend? They'd be up for it, wouldn't they?'

It's like someone slapped me in the face. I can't suppress the jolt of emotion going through my body, making me sit upright. James is slightly thrown back by my movement, his arm falling back on the bed.

'What?' he asks, looking startled.

I fight to pull myself together. I've got to stop doing this. Syed has made his choice and I have made mine. So James is not my Romeo and I not his Juliette. He's still lovely, and kind, and deserves more than a boyfriend who's pining after someone else.

'It's nothing. I just realized I have to go in for work for a bit that's all' I try and reassure him.

'That's not for hours yet though is it?' James asks, climbing out of bed. 'Tell you what, you try and get some more kip, I promise to wake you up in time'

He kisses me lightly on the lips before sauntering off towards the bathroom.

'And we'll talk about that lunch later' he winks, before closing the door behind him.

Gratefully, I close my eyes, flop back down and make full use of my now empty bed.

* * *

Five minutes. I didn't clock it, but I know it couldn't have been more than five minutes. Five minutes of blissful silence in my head, soothing nothingness, before he is back. Tired of fighting it, I let the feelings flood me, safe in the knowledge that I am alone and my face is hidden beneath the sheets. It's his smile. That always gets me first. The curl of those beautiful tender lips that make me ache to reach out and touch them. The twinkle in those dark velvet eyes that seduce me to drown in them. And then I'm lost… Images flash trough my head, taunting me with the beauty of him. Flashes of golden skin, dark stubble, flushed cheeks… His chest with those sensitive nipples, his soft belly, the workings of his muscles and the markings of the ribs underneath his skin. The rugged, dark chest hair, the trace of which I love to follow all the way down to his eager cock. His lean and muscular limbs… How I love to nuzzle the soft, sensitive skin of his inner arms and the back of his knees. I remember the way he quivers against me when I do that, I remember his breath coming out in soft pants. I remember how he likes to cling to me when I'm inside him, pulling me close. I remember how he whispers my name, screams it, breathes it in my ear. I remember. I remember it all.

* * *

There's only so long you can pretend to be asleep with someone else in the room. Especially if that someone is the kind of person that will try and tiptoe around the place, try and be quiet, only to utterly fail. So I roll out of bed, throw on a vest and some shorts and head for the kitchen.

'Well someone's hungry' I smirk, as I see James coming out of the kitchen with a full tray.

'I was planning to bring you breakfast in bed' he pouts.

For someone who has known me for years, he sure can get it wrong sometimes. I hate getting crumbs in my bed, a big no no. I ignore the memory of Syed devouring a croissant in that same bed.

_That was different_, I tell myself.

_Oh yeah? And why is that? _a nagging little voice questions in the back of my head. I decide to ignore that too.

'I'm still half asleep, does that count?' I jest, only to wince as he clears the table with one hand, scattering papers all over the place.

'Eh…' I complain.

'I'll sort it out later!' he assures me, with a boyish grin that is really kind of cute. You know, if you don't compare it to… _No_, I call my treacherous brain to a halt.

'It's a good job you make great coffee' I grumble.

'Anyway a tidy house is a sign of a wasted life', he proclaims smugly, softening his voice as he continues, 'and I don't want to waste a minute of it. Not when I could be spending time with you'.

I swallow as he takes my hand and strokes my arm gently. James is such a lovely bloke. He's kind, warm, loving… Fit too. And he says just the right things. Everything I've been wanting to hear in fact. _You're a lucky bastard Christian Clarke_, I lecture myself. I know I'd be a fool to give that up. And right there and then, I strengthen my resolve to make a go of it with James. Get Syed out of my head for good. I ignore the painful twinge in my heart as I smile at him heartily and squeeze his hand.

* * *

God, I can't believe it! I had a lovely morning with James, told Jane all about it and actually felt happy for a change. And then he has to walk in the unit. Bloody Syed in his dusky grey shirt, the black leather jacket he knows I love and that lovely hair of his framing his perfect face. I just about managed to tell him something about the desserts that need checking before fleeing to the little office. Because that's what I did, big man that I am. I fled. And even now I can't keep my eyes off him, staring through the blinds like some pathetic stalker type person. I close my eyes and sigh. This is going to be even more difficult than I thought. But I promised James I would ask Syed and Amira over for lunch. Now that I know Ian and Jane will be coming, I guess it'll be safe…

* * *

'Can you get that babe, I sort of got my hands full here' James shouts at me from the kitchen.

I open the door, expecting it to be Jane. But it's not. Of course it's not. It's Syed. _You're the one who asked him over remember? _I scold myself. I shake myself mentally, force a smile, and invite him in. I take his jacket and hang it for him, hating myself for giving it a longing sniff before letting go. Thank god Amira couldn't make it. At least I won't have to watch her fondling him or anything like that. I barely repress a shudder.

'Can I get you anything? Orange juice?' I suggest, hurrying off to hide with James in the kitchen. I'm unpleasantly surprised to find James already holding out a filled glass for me, leaving me no choice but to turn straight back around.

He's sitting on the sofa. He hasn't seen me come back in yet. I catch my breath as I see him staring at the sofa cushions, softly stroking the fabric. I know exactly what he's thinking. I've had those same images of the two of us myself. That time we lay there together, naked, so very close that we were breathing the same air. Or the times we watched TV together, messing around and cuddling on that sofa. Or that time when we… I make an involuntary move forward, catching my leg against the table. The sound is enough to make Syed start and look up at me.

Those eyes… Those bloody eyes! Just for a second, before he has the chance to put his guard back up, I can see. I can see the raw longing there, the loneliness. It's like time has frozen as our eyes lock. I'm not sure how I feel about this. On the one hand, it's good to know I'm not the only one having a difficult time with this. But on the other hand… it makes it that much harder to stick to my resolution and move on...

Just as I'm about to say something, break the silence, the doorbell rings. Saved by the bell. I smile at Syed apologetically and than hurry to open the door for my sister and that fool of a husband of hers.

**As always, I love those reviews ;-)**


	19. Chapter 19

**I promised I wouldn't make you wait too long now didn't I ;-)**

**It's later that same day, "alley scene" day. Syed's POV.**

'…and then she said that there was nothing she could do for me and I would just have to wait like I was some puppy in obedience school or something. I gave her one of my looks, told her that I was going to be a bride soon thank you very much, and that if she thought that I would wait for some insipid girl calling herself "shop manager" or something ridiculous like that, well, she had another thing coming. So that's when…'

I smile and make little agreeing noises in what I hope are the right places. Not that she's looking at me or paying any attention to anything except her rant of course. I stopped listening after the story about how she got told off (unjustly obviously) for using her cell phone.

She looks lovely though. One of her errands must have been getting her hair and nails done. And that green dress looks very nice on her. She really is a beautiful girl. _Pretty_, I muse… Yes, I've chosen well on that score. She is everything I had imagined my future wife to be.

'… so of course they gave me the discount, as I knew they would. And did I tell you about the beautiful fabric I found for the gown they're making for me? It's going to look soooooo gorgeous, I just know it! I went for a fitting yesterday, and the seamstress had picked out some sort of fabric herself. You should have seen it babe. It was cheap looking, rough, way too loud', Amira shudders before going on, 'and she had the gall to say that she thought it "suited me". She's lucky I didn't get her fired for that one on the spot! So I…'

Yes, nothing cheap for my princess. She deserves the best. Well, demands it anyway. I smile indulgently and let her rant on in the safe knowledge that she won't need any input from me for quite some time. I relax, sitting back on the sofa, thoughtlessly raising my hand to push back the hair from my eyes.

Fuck… And I was doing so well too… The plaster on my finger might as well have been bright red, still dripping with my blood, for the impact it has on me. Instantly I am transported back to his kitchen, back to Christian… looking at me like that. Looking at me like I was the one that got away. Looking at me… like I was looking at him. Why, for fuck's sake, why did I do that? Up to that point, I had been reasonably sure he was happy with the choices he made. Pleased to be with that… be with… James. Moving on with his life, forgetting al about me. About us…

_That is exactly why you did it_, I realize. I had to know if he was still thinking of me. Had to. Because I couldn't stand the idea of him getting over me so quickly. Couldn't let him be happy. I close my eyes in disgust at my selfishness. I should be bigger than this. It's what Christian deserves, isn't it? I mean, what can I give him when compared to someone like James? Someone who will love and adore him openly. Really be with him. Have a relationship with him. Live a life together with him. That is so much more than I can give him. _Oh but how I wish that I could_… No no no no no! I violently shake my head, but the images are already there, effortlessly pushing those of Amira aside. That cheeky smile, those sparkling green eyes, that strong, beautiful, proud face. And I know with devastating clarity that that is what I want. What I need. What I crave with every fibre of my being. Breathing becomes more difficult as the pure want starts to suffocate me. Gone are any delusions of Amira ever being the answer to anything other than stupid, ignorant, childish fantasies. Fantasies I've had for so long that I've started believing in them. I grasp at my throat as it becomes increasingly difficult to get sufficient oxygen to my brain. What am I doing? _What have I done?_

'Need some fresh air' I wheeze.

Amira doesn't seem to notice that anything is wrong. She's admiring herself in front of the mirror, lifting her hair to get a better view of what must be new earrings.

'Sure babe. Can you get me some chocolate while you're out?' she heaves a dramatic sigh before continuing, 'I could use some after the appalling day I've had'.

I manage to get out some sort of positive response before practically hurling myself at the door. I stumble down the stairs, open the door and slam it behind me. Leaning my back against it, I close my eyes and breathe, breathe, _breathe…_

* * *

The walk through the allotments has calmed me down a bit. I feel… resigned. I'm living my life the only way I know how. And if it doesn't live 100% up to what I had imagined, well… I can deal with that. It's not fair, pining after Christian. Not fair on Christian. I know now how difficult it is for him to move on. But he's trying. And I need to respect that. I clasp the box of chocolate in my hand and brace myself, ready to go back. Back to Amira. Try and listen to her this time. Make the best of things. I quicken my step and head back to her apartment. I'm fully resolved to make an effort. Try and …

And then I turn round the corner and almost walk into him. Christian. Bugger. Shite. I do not need this! Of course I have no idea what to say. I glance down and spot the box of chocolates I'm still holding.

'Amira needs chocolates' I inanely say. _Clever_ Syed. That'll impress him. Not. But now that I've started down this road, I have no choice but to continue, 'She never knew weddings could be so stressful'.

He smiles ruefully and answers: 'That's because she didn't have her Franck with her'.

We both laugh awkwardly. I ask about Jane. He asks after my hand. A polite conversation between two friendly acquaintances, nothing more. Except for the looks. God the way he looks at me… No! Think of Amira! Make him think of… James. _Do_ something, anything, before I throw caution to the wind and I…

'James is lovely' I manage. And I almost mean it.

'Yeah he is' nods Christian, not releasing me from his hot, intense glare. And then he deals the blow.

'He's not you though'

There it is. The truth I've been ignoring. The one thing that is wrong with Amira. The one thing that matters. She's not Christian. And I will never feel for her this great, all consuming passion that I feel for him. Everything pales compared to that.

Before I know it I am dragged by my hand in to some dark ally I didn't know was there and I'm fighting to breathe again. Within a heartbeat that solid, warm body I've been dreaming about is pressing me up against the wall. My hands seem to have a mind of their own as they slide around his waist. His scent. Bloody hell I had forgotten about his scent… It's intoxicating.

'I tried Syed, but…'

'I know' I reassure him. We've both tried. But there's no way we can fight this… thing that is between us. And right now, I can't think of a reason why we would want to. Wait… I think I hear something… see someone… I twist my head and try and see.

'I think there's someone watching' I warn.

He grabs my chin… forces me to look at him. I can hear his heart and his breath, racing just like mine.

'You worry too much' he says, staring at me with those mesmerizing eyes, 'Come here…'

And then he kisses me and the world ceases to exist.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I am vaguely aware of the fact that I shouldn't be doing this. Or at the very least I shouldn't be doing this here, out on the streets, just begging to be caught. But that awareness just seems trivial when compared to the feeling of his muscular thigh, easing its way between mine, brushing against my crotch in the process. I'm consumed by the feeling of his mouth conquering me, invading me. Consumed with the feel of that broad chest, pressed so firmly against me that I can't tell where his body ends and mine begins. I shiver as I feel those wonderful, muscular arms around me again, never knowing how cold I was without them until I felt them wrapped around me once more.

'I've missed you' he groans in my ear.

'Me too… Oh yes, me too…' I confess, burying my face in the crook of his neck to get an even stronger whiff of him.

It's like my words have broken the last barrier. Suddenly I can feel his hands tugging at my shirt, one hand sliding up underneath it and the other undoing my belt.

'Christian!' I protest, trying to push him away. But then he shoves his hand down my pants and I forget everything as he holds me in a tight grip. My body makes an involuntary lunge forward, my hips bucking into his hand, my arms flying around his neck, my mouth devouring his. As he thrusts his tongue in my mouth, I thrust my cock in his hand. Moving in the same, maddening rhythm, I'm afraid I'm going to come right there, down some filthy alley, where anyone can spot us anytime now.

'Will you come back to mine?' he asks me, his voice husky with desire.

'Yes', I groan, 'But wait. What about…'

He shakes his head.

'It's alright. No one's there' he assures me.

'Then let's go' I say, giving him a look that I know will drive him crazy.

**Still loving those reviews :-)**


	20. Chapter 20

**Yes this chapter is smutty. Just look at the way Christian looked the morning after (I've heard it accurately described as like the cat that ate the canary) and you'll know I speak nothing but the truth ;-)**

**~c~s~**

I don't think I've ever been as aroused as I am right at this minute. I bless the decadent mood I was in this morning, when I decided to finally use those new, dark red, high thread count sheets I had bought in a whim last Christmas. As I smoothed the sheets back with my hands, I had imaged what he'd look like, sprawled all over them. But my vivid imagination lacked the ability to create the perfect picture I currently see right in front of me. Syed. My beautiful, luscious, wonderful Syed. I can't stop myself from reaching out a hand, touching him, making sure that this time, he is no figment of my overactive imagination. I heave a shaky sigh as I feel the reassuring warmth of his flesh beneath my touch. I sit back, straddling his hips, and admire the view.

'Sy…'

He looks up, smiles at me and my heart skips a beat.

'I've missed that' he says

'What? I ask.

'The way you say my name. You say it as if I was the most precious thing in the world and than you look at me as if you can't wait to ravish me' he explains.

I can feel a devilish grin forming on my lips.

'Not just yet', I answer, 'I want to look at you for bit'. I lean forward and whisper in his ear: 'You hold that thought though mister. I'll be getting back to that later'.

I teasingly nip at his bottom lip, making him yelp.

'Later? How much later?' he enquires innocently as he wriggles underneath me, making our contact even more intimate.

I hiss my breath and close my eyes, fighting to keep myself under control. When I feel it's safe, I look at him in mock disappointment and say: 'Now for that alone, I have no choice but to make you wait just a little longer'.

'You weren't so patient earlier' he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. God that makes him look adorable…

_Ah yes, earlier… I feel a little thrill of excitement go through me a__s I recall the way we entered the apartment. Throwing caution to the wind, we had hurriedly made our way over together. No waiting for me to go first to avoid suspicion. No looking around to see if anyone spotted us, slipping through the door. The only concession to common sense I made was to keep my eyes down at all times, knowing that my look would betray my lustful intentions. I raced up the stairs, dragging him along behind me. I unlocked the door, kicked it closed behind us and shoved him up against it in one swift move. I bruised his lips in a ferocious kiss, thrusting my tongue in his mouth, reclaiming what was mine all along. He groaned in my mouth, pushing himself into me with the use of the door behind him as leverage. Fumbling, urgent hands unbuttoned buttons, unzipped trousers. No time for undressing, the only item of clothing actually taken off his leather jacket. _

'_Need you…' he gasped as he rutted his exposed erection against mine, 'need you… now'._

_In seconds his strong legs were wrapped around me, his hands holding onto my shoulders for support as I was thrusting into him with abandon. I would have been worried of hurting him but for the glazed expression he wore. _

'That was… fun' I admit. 'But it's time for some more leisurely fun now'

I bend over and flick my tongue in featherlike motions over his skin in order to demonstrate my intentions.

'You're going to kill me, aren't you?' he groans, arching his back, offering more of his skin for me to taste.

I smile against his skin, giving him a chastising pinch in one of his most sensitive places. His eyes fly open and he shivers beneath me.

'I would never be so cruel' I lecture, blowing hot air on his belly, making his muscles quiver. 'But I'll have you begging me for mercy before the end' I vow.

'Promise?' he whispers, a challenge in his soft, brown eyes.

'God yes' I agree.

There is no more talk for quite some time. Only the sounds of the crisp new sheets underneath him, my heavy breathing sometimes broken by low moans and his alternately whimpering cries, soft pants and toe curling groans fill the air around us. Taking my time, I start reacquainting myself with his body, kissing, caressing, worshipping every single part of it. My hands feel their way along every familiar curve and angle, his body arching underneath my touch like a contented cat being stroked. Again I take the time to look at him. The shaggy hair, still mussed by our antics earlier. His eyes feverish, half lidded at times, wide open the next. His lips, soft, moist and slightly parted. His arms, thrown over his head in a silent surrender. His legs spread wantonly, giving me a glorious view of his straining cock. I slide further down, bend over and take him in my mouth, using my hands to pin him down.

'Christian…' he moans, repeating it with a desperate ring to his voice as I moan around him.

I have to use force to keep his hips firmly down, preventing him from thrusting himself down my throat. _Patience Syed_, I think as I curl my tongue around him. His head is thrashing on the pillows, his body shivering under my touch. I make him wait, working his length up and down, until I see him biting down hard on his lower lip. Then I finally give him what I know he wants, taking him in deep and then swallowing around him, successfully repressing my gag reflex. An animalistic cry escapes his lips as he kick his legs out in a spasm of pure pleasure.

'Christian…please… ' he begs.

I withdraw, looking up at him with a smug little smile.

'Told you so' I taunt.

He's beyond caring though, his eyes wild, the adrenalin racing through his body giving him extra strength. I yelp in surprise as he flips us over and I look up in to the fierce beauty of his face.

'That's better' he sighs, climbing on top of me, clamping my hips between his thighs. He flashes me a wicked smile before taking my throbbing cock in a firm grip, guiding it to align with that magnificent arse of his.

'Syed…'

His name is nothing but a hoarse whisper on my suddenly dry lips.

'Who's begging now?' he smirks, lowering himself slowly on my straining cock.

He never ceases to amaze me. I forgot that he could be like that, giving himself to me freely, without reservation, but also able to take me with such determined confidence.

As soon as I'm fully buried inside him, he starts rocking back and forth, a blissful expression on his face. For a while I just let it happen, lay back, enthralled by the breathtaking sight he makes. But then I decide enough is enough. I take an iron grip on his hips and manoeuvre us so that he is pinned beneath me once more.

'Hey!' he protests good-naturedly.

I respond by moving deeper inside him, satisfied to see his eyes roll back in his head with pleasure.

'Got any complaints?' I enquire.

But all he does is shake his head in denial and raise his hips up to meet mine.

I try and stretch out our love making for as long as I can, stilling my motions as I sense we're getting too close, then speeding up again to keep us right near the edge of that cliff. As much as I want to give in, yearn to let the tides of our climax rip through us, I fight to hold back. I'm not ready. I want to hang on just a little while longer, be with him, inside him, for just a few minutes more. I let my hands stroke his body tenderly, reaching up to cup his face, tilting it so I can give him the sweetest of kisses. Speeding up my movements, I finally push him over the edge, thrilled to hear his whimpering cry as he comes. I hold him in my arms, still moving inside him, trying to tell him with my body what I cannot yet tell him with my words. _I love you_, I think, stroking his hair back from his face. _I love you, _I think, kissing his closed eyelids. And as I feel the truth beneath my unspoken words, I sink onto his welcoming body and let my climax take me.

**~c~s~**

**Yes, still loving those reviews!**


	21. Chapter 21

**This chapter was a struggle. I had it partly written, but had to delete all and start over. I hope you like what I came up with :-) It's Syed's POV.**

**~s~c~**

'It's like you said… You and me… look, in these four walls… it works!'

I hold my breath, waiting for him to respond. I ignore all emotions that flicker behind those green eyes. I can't deal with those now. All I can do is wait… Wait and hear if he believes this can work. I need him to say yes. _Please say yes_, I repeat to myself over and over again. Why is this taking so long? The silence is driving me insane. _Please Christian, please say yes. I don't know what I'll do if you don't. Please…_

'Alright' he finally responds, without looking at me. But that's not important. He agreed, that's what matters. He said yes!

'You won't regret this!' I swear, flinging my arms around him. I don't understand the look in his eyes at that, or the sound he makes, but I don't care. All I care about is that he said yes. I'm surprised to note my cheeks are wet with tears and my hands tremble as I reach up to cup his beautiful face. His eyes are closed, a single tear dripping down his face. I swipe it away with my thumb and press a soft kiss against his lips.

'Take me to bed' I whisper, taking his hand in mine. But it's me leading him to the bed. Me gently pushing him down on his back. Me taking of his clothes and my own, covering his naked skin with butterfly kisses. He shivers, keeping his eyes closed most of the time. I do sense something is wrong, but am too happy to ask what it is. Instead I decide to make him feel so good, he'll forget about anything else.

I lie down next to him, pulling his body into me. He doesn't resist. I reach down for the sheets and pull them up, all the way over our heads. Then I take him in my arms and give him a long, slow, wet kiss. I pull back, nipping his bottom lip before releasing him. This is the moment I would tell him how much this means to me, how much he means to me, but my feelings are still too messed up for me to express in words. So I try and do the next best thing. I look at him and smile, consciously revealing the turmoil of my emotions with my eyes. He startles. A hand reaches for me, as if involuntary. I sigh as I angle my face up to meet his hand. He leans in for a hesitant kiss. I stroke his hair and simply return the kiss. I let my hands wander down, stroking his back in soothing, slow movements. Like I used to do when he was hurt. I'm not sure why I feel the impulse to do it now, but I decide it was the right move as he sighs and relaxes under my touch.

We kiss, we caress, hold each other, look at each other. For a long time it is no more than that. But then I notice his movements grow bolder, his grip more firm, his eyes more determined. He captures me with strong arms, dazzles me with searing kisses, dominates me with his powerful body. I lose myself in our lovemaking, sighing in satisfaction as he moulds me with his hands. His sounds are low and guttural, making me tremble with need. Not until he's inside of me, do I feel complete. He makes me feel vulnerable, yet stronger than ever. I don't understand how he does that. I try and give back by caressing him with hands and lips. I love the feeling of his skin underneath my touch. I can spend a day just exploring the different textures on different parts of his body. Rough in places like his elbows and knees. Covered in tiny hairs like on his chest and legs. And smooth as silk in the most sensitive spots, like his inner arms and thighs. I let my hands find every inch, touching, stroking, gently scraping my blunt nails, making him shudder. I have my own kind of power over him. That knowledge makes me not hesitate to surrender to his.

**~s~c~**

We sit at the table, drinking coffee, talking, enjoying spending time together. My thoughts travel back to my conversation with the Imam today. When he told me not to bring shame upon my family, I doubt he was hinting at the solution I've chosen. But I've made my choice, the only way I know how. I won't bring shame on my family. I will marry Amira. But I can't give this up. Can't give him up. At the moment I can't imagine there will ever be a time that I won't want this, need this, crave this. Us. I tried to find out if I could have something even slightly similar with Amira. I wince as I remember my disastrous visit with her this afternoon. I'll have to find a way to make up for that. No matter how desperate I was, there is no excuse for my behaviour and I know it. I'll just have to… wait and see. You know… after the wedding. I'm not stupid. I know it won't be the same. All I hope for is that some kind of bond will form between her and me, something more than there is now. Something that can grow, something that will make me able to… give up Christian.

I stand up with a start.

'What is it?' he asks. 'Do you need to get back?'

'Yes. I mean, no, not yet. I was just going to get another cup of coffee. You want one?'

I think I covered alright. I just need to… calm down. Stop thinking about that. The wedding's ages away yet. I bring in the coffee and sit back down.

'So… how exactly is this going to work?' he asks. I can see the tension on his face as he asks me.

'What do you mean?' I inquire cautiously.

'I mean, how are we going to see each other. Am I supposed to just sit here and wait for you to drop by? Because that's not going to happen Sy. If you want me in your life, than act like it. I want us to spend time together. Real time, not some quick fuck and you're out the door'.

'Of course not! We'll have plenty of time together, I promise. Anyway', I say with a coy smile, 'you know I can't stay away. Even if I wanted to. Which I don't' I add for good measure. I lean in close, take his hand and try to show him that I mean what I say. And I do. What with both Amira and Mum being obsessed with wedding plans and dad working day and night, I know I can get away.

'Like I said… I want more than just a quick fuck Sy. That's never going to be enough for me. If that's all you can give me than…maybe we shouldn't do this,' he insists.

His words scare me. I thought we'd had this conversation. I thought he'd made his choice. I'm not sure I could deal with it if he changed his mind now. And I'm also not sure what exactly he wants from me. Of course it's not just about the sex. He knows that doesn't he? I can't deny it's a big part of it. Even thinking about having sex with him is enough to stir up my desire for him.

'I don't want it to just be about the sex either. We could go out sometime… somewhere they don't know us. Or only, you know, talk…'

I stroke his hand with my thumb and continue: 'Or just… be together. Like this'.

'Alright' he says, putting his other hand over mine. He looks at me and smiles. I notice that his eyes aren't quite joining that smile yet, but still, it seems like a good sign.

**~s~c~**

'I have to go now' I tell him.

I'm so comfortable right now. We're on the sofa. I'm sitting between his legs, resting my back and head against his chest. I enjoy the feeling of the rise and fall of his broad chest behind me and the hand that is playing with a strand of my hair.

'Of course you do' he agrees.

'No, I really have to go. Mum's already called two times. I can't put it off forever' I insist, not moving an inch.

'I know' he croons as he places a soft kiss in the crook of my neck.

'So we're both agreed. I have to go home, like now'.

'Absolutely' he says, while slipping his arms snugly around my chest.

'That's settled than' I reply, as I wiggle around a bit to get even more comfortable in his embrace. Who am I kidding here anyway?

'Or…' I begin.

'Yes?' he asks, eagerly.

'Perhaps I could just stay for another half hour? That would be ok wouldn't it?' I try.

'Sure!' he nods.

'But then I really do have to go Christian. Thirty minutes and that's it' I say, twisting my head to look at him sternly.

He just smiles at me sweetly and says: 'Sure Sy, whatever you say'

And then he kisses me and I lose all concept of time.

**~s~c~**

**Reviews still very much welcome :-)**


	22. Chapter 22

**This chapter is from Christian's POV. It contains a lot of smut. Seriously. Consider yourself warned!**

**xxx**

'Yes Zainab… No Zainab… Of course Zainab, I'll take care of it… Stop worrying will ya? I've got it all under control. You just enjoy your day off and leave us to it… Alright… Yes I'm sure! Bye'

I disconnect the call and roll my eyes at my phone incredulously. You would think the woman would be glad of some time away from Masala Queen. Jane had been. Let hem enjoy themselves with their husbands and leave Sy and me to take care of ourselves. Speaking of Syed, where the fuck is he? I check the time. He's late. I'm a bit disappointed, but I decide to get things started so that we won't have to waste precious time working when we could be doing… other things.

The last couple of days have been alternating between pure bliss and pure torture. When I'm with Syed, I feel happier than I've ever felt. I love him, I really do. I haven't dared tell him that of course, for fear of scaring him off. The way he acts around me though, the way that I sometimes catch him looking at me, I could swear that he loves me back. _Patience Christian_, I tell myself.

The pure torture kicks in the moment he tells me has to go. Every time he does, I'm reminded of the fact that I'm not part of his life. Not really. He just sneaks away from his own life every now and then and comes and hide with me. My flat, my bed, my arms, are like his sanctuary. And although I repeatedly ask myself what the hell I think I'm doing, I could never refuse him his shelter.

I have no idea where this is going. Or actually, I know exactly where this is going. Nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. He's engaged, happily planning his marriage. I find that so baffling, that I sometimes manage to convince myself it can't be true. Or if it is, he won't go through with it. Will he? There's no way that he can just walk away from me, from us, from what we share. Is there? I sigh. These kinds of thoughts will do nothing but drive me crazy. One minute I'm sure he'll one day leave his old life behind and walk towards the sunset with me, at other times I fear he's just using me. I fear that he doesn't love me at all. If he did, could he treat me like this? Like I'm his dirty little secret? But then he'll look at me… He'll smile and look at me, and I think I see the depth of his feelings in those beautiful dark, soft eyes. It's those eyes that kill me every single time.

I chop the coriander with measured movements, taking out my frustration on the poor herbs. I could kick myself for going down this train of thoughts again. Every second I'm away from him, my brain goes into overdrive. _He loves me, I just know he does. Doesn't he? No, it's nothing but a great shag for him, isn't it? No it's more than that obviously. Is it though? _Aaaaaargh! I'm driving myself crazy. I slap myself repeatedly on the forehead with the heel of my hand, trying to physically force myself to stop. If only he was here, I could stop thinking and start… Again I wonder where he is. I check the time. He's over 30 minutes late. This is getting ridiculous. I'm actually starting to get annoyed now. I grab my phone and call him.

'Hello?'

'Syed! Where the fuck are you? I'm on my own here remember? You promised you'd help me with the preparations for the Patel wedding!'

'Christian?'

'Yes of course it's me. Now get your arse over here Sy!'

'Hmmm… yeah… sorry, can't'

This is unexpected. For a few seconds, I just stand there, open mouthed, looking at my phone. What's going on here? When I find my voice again, I ask hesitantly:

'You… can't? Er… Why not?'

I can hear him chuckle on the other side of the line. Bastard. I don't know what the hell is going on, but if he thinks I'm going to just accept this, he's sadly mistaken. I'm about to tell him that, when he starts speaking again.

'I can't because I'm… busy'

That last word is spoken with a satisfied little sigh.

'You're… busy' I repeat, not knowing what else to say.

'Hmhm' he confirms. I can hear him shifting and I think I hear… are those the rustle of sheets? The bloody cheek!

'Syed', I start, not bothering to conceal my irritation, 'are you in bed?'

'Might be. Hmmm… I wonder how that happened?' he responds, annoyingly friendly.

'I don't care how it happened, just get your lazy bum out of bed and get over here now!' I demand, quickly losing patience with this conversation.

'Can't. You see, I'm just a little bit naked right now' he confesses cheerfully.

Not fair! Immediately my brain is assaulted with images of his gorgeous naked form, sprawled on top of a messed up bed. I can feel my cock stir appreciatively as I zoom in on some of his more enticing body parts.

'Christian? Are you still there?'

Shite.

'Yeah. I mean yes, yes I'm here. It's you that isn't here, where he's supposed to be. I'm here, you know, as promised. Fully dressed an' all. You're, you know, not…'

God I'm babbling. _Quick Christian, pull yourself together man! _

'Sy, come on now. You've had your fun. We've got things to do here'.

'We have things to do here as well Christian. Important things. Things that can't, you know, wait'.

His voice sounds husky and seductive. Just the sound of his voice is enough for shudders of desire to ripple through me. My uniform is feeling very restrictive right now. I stifle a moan as I feel all the blood leaving my brain, travelling south with haste.

'Sy', I groan, 'what are you doing to me?'

'Nothing… yet. I have some stuff in mind though. And some stuff I want you to do to me as well… What are you waiting for Christian?'

I can't help but laugh.

'Yeah because your mum would really like that, wouldn't she? If I came over, rang the bell, hurried past her up the stairs and threw myself into your bed'

I'm so wound up by now, that I'm almost tempted to do exactly that.

'Oh, didn't I tell you? Silly me. I'm not in my bed. I'm in yours. Lying here. Naked. Waiting for you'.

**xxx**

'What took you so long?'

I would answer his question, but I have currently lost the ability of speech. I'm not sure how I got here. One minute, I'm on the phone, talking to Syed, the next I'm standing in my flat, looking at him. I mean, really looking at him. He's lying there, in my bed, on top of the sheets. Naked. Provocatively naked. He is lying on his left side, his head propped up by his elbow, legs slightly bent and separated. His hand is stroking the sheets enticingly. His erection is nicely displayed, flushed a dark pink, straining against his belly. My arousal has become near painful by now. The sly smile on his lips betrays that he knows exactly what he's doing to me. _Bastard_, I think again.

'Are you just going to stand there?' he inquires innocently, arching an eyebrow.

I shake my head and take a few steps in his direction. He laughs softly at my silent compliance. The sound zings through me, forcing an embarrassingly needy whine from my throat. His eyes darken at the sound.

'I think you're a little bit overdressed, don't you? Now as sexy as the blue and white of the Masala Queen uniform is, I prefer you to like, not wear it. Take it off' he clarifies.

That sounds like a marvellous idea, so I start tearing at my clothes. Unfortunately, my hands are shaking and I make no progress at all. The need to express my frustration helps me finally regain the power of speech.

'I can't. Help me out here Sy' I beg.

'Come here'

I paddle over to the bed and accept his help gratefully. He gets up on his knees, wiggles his way to the edge of the bed and starts undressing me in swift movements. He lets his hands do the work as his eyes stay locked with mine. I helpfully raise arms, lift legs, step out of shoes, trousers, pants and am naked within seconds. He glances me over, smiles with relish and tugs on my arm to let me fall on top of him.

And then we are nothing but a heap of entangled limbs and body parts, rolling around on my big, soft bed. My body has no need of my malfunctioning brain as instinct takes over and I embrace the man I love. I kiss, lick and bite the skin of his neck and shoulders. I know I'm leaving marks, but I don't care. He throws his head back and moans, pushing his body flush against mine. My hands slide down to cup his buttocks without thought. They feel like they were made to fit into my hands. Our gasping breaths and desperate groping tell me that we have little time. I feel like I will burst if I'm not inside him within seconds. I'm about to slide a finger in search of his entrance, but he bats my hand away. Confused, I look into his eyes. Does he not want this? But the look in his eyes reassures me.

'No need' he says smugly. 'I had some time to kill, waiting for you to get your arse over here. I used it wisely'.

I almost choke as I imagine him lying there, waiting for me, preparing himself for me. I crush his lips with mine. As I push my tongue into his mouth, I slowly thrust myself into him. I sigh into his mouth blissfully as he fully envelops me with his warmth. I flip myself on my back, letting Syed straddle me. He releases my mouth and sits up. Then he starts to move. As I drift mindlessly on the waves of his movements, I drink in the sight of him. Syed. My Syed. His eyes are closed, his mouth open, his face an example of pure concentration. He raises himself up and lets himself drop down again. Not able to remain still, I push my hips up, meeting him halfway. We are quiet, our movements speeding up until they are nothing but a blur. The strangled cry he lets out at his release brings on my own climax. My teeth are clamped together and my body spasms underneath his. As he slowly lowers himself on top of me, I know that this is worth it. Whatever happens, whatever future lies ahead of us, this is worth it.

**xxx**

**You can't say I didn't give you fair warning ;-)**


	23. Chapter 23

**It's been a while, I know. I sort of got... distracted. But, to make up for it, I'm posting three chapters in one go! So please take note to read them in the right order. This chapter, chapter 23, is the first. It's set on the day that Christian and Jane come over for dinner at the Beale house. It's from Syed's POV.**

**~s~c~**

_Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. __Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy…_

All day long, I can hear it in the back of my mind. _Bad boy…_ Like a sick sort of mantra, repeating itself over and over again. At times, it sounds mocking and shrill and has Mum's voice. Then it changes, becomes kind of whining and accusing like Amira. But mostly it has Dad's voice, disapproving and judgemental. It doesn't matter what I'm doing or who I'm with. It's just… there. Like, all the time.

I can't believe I let Mum think that Dad was cheating on her. I knew it wasn't true, of course I did. Somehow, I can't seem to stop myself acting like a cat backed into a corner, just lashing out at whomever comes near. Ever since I saw those words sprayed all over our front door I knew they were about me. I don't care what Dad and Tam might have done, there is only one bad boy living in this house. And that boy is me. They might as well have sprayed it right on my forehead. As far as I'm concerned, the sharply angled words were like a red flashing arrow, pointing straight at me. The bad boy.

_Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. __Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy…_

It just won't leave me alone. I can function pretty normally, talk to Mum, Dad, Amira, Tam, like nothing's going on. It dulls to a tiny whisper when I'm in company, quiet enough for me to pretend it isn't there. But then it will hit me. _Someone knows_. And I'll become paranoid, searching the faces of everyone I see. _Is it you_? I'll think a hundred times a day. But I don't say anything. I can't, can I…

It could be all in my head I suppose… Sometimes I can almost convince myself it is. Just some tag from a graffiti artist who randomly picked our door. But it's not. I just know it's not…

_Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. __Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy…_

At night, alone in my bed, it becomes so loud it's almost deafening. Whenever I'm alone it's so much more persistent, so much more _there._ I can't stand it. I want so much to forget, to not care so much. I always want what I can't have, don't I…

There's only one place those words can't get to me, one place where I'm safe. When I'm with him, even if I still hear the words, they've lost their power over me. They're just… _words. I'm a bad boy. So what_? Am I supposed to chastise myself for something that feels so good? So… right? Well I won't. I refuse. When I'm with him, I just _breathe_. How does something you do every day, every minute, every couple of seconds from the moment you're born, suddenly become so much more important? I can't describe it. When I'm not with him, I still breathe. But it isn't a conscious act. It isn't something I take pleasure from. When I'm with Christian, even breathing becomes a delight. Because it feels so… _free_. So abundant. The nearer I am, the better it becomes. When I'm lying close to him, every breath brings me a piece of him. It caries his scent, his essence, and it… I don't know… lightens me? Yes, I guess that's it. Everything is lighter when I'm with him.

'Syed, is that table set yet? They'll be here any minute now!' I hear Mum shriek from the kitchen. I set down the glass I've been playing with for only God knows how long and reach for the napkins.

'Almost done' I answer her as she walks in the room looking slightly frazzled. It's obvious she feels guilty about the way she talked to Jane and wants to make it up to her. Her guilt only sharpens my own. After all, if I hadn't put the idea of her and Dad in Mum's head in the first place… I shake my head to get rid of the thoughts and smile at Mum.

'Good, good…' she mumbles, scanning the table. Apparently it meets with het approval, because she gives a small nod and heads back to the kitchen. 'You can lay out the starters now' she calls over her shoulder.

'Yes Mum…'

**~s~c~**

They're here. _He_'s here. A familiar little thrill of excitement surges through me. As Mum ushers them in, I quickly smooth down my shirt, inwardly mocking myself for my vanity. As soon as he walks in the door, our eyes meet. Luckily Mum and Jane are still so awkward around each other that it seems unlikely they'll notice anything we do. I decide that's a very good thing as I catch the devilish twinkle in his eye. That twinkle does funny things to me. Things that could quickly become embarrassing while we're around my mum and his sister. As soon as the women leave to put the flowers Christian brought over into a vase, I take my chance to scold him.

'What are you doing here?' I enquire sternly.

'Coming for diner' is his simple reply. But that twinkle hasn't left his eyes. In fact, it is now enjoying the company of a smug smile. Bastard. He knows what that does to me.

'Thought your mum would have told you' he adds.

'No'.

I never asked. I just assumed it would be Ian Jane was bringing. But before I can elaborate, Mum and Jane walk back in, followed closely by Dad. I guess it's time for diner.

Of course he sits down in the chair right next to mine. I can't say this surprises me. Mum has unwittingly played right into his hands by her choice of seating arrangements. I look at his smirk as we sit down. He's enjoying himself way too much at my expense. But the funny thing is, so am I. I'm annoyed at him, yes, apprehensive that he'll do something and someone will notice, definitely. But most of all I just enjoy the fact that he's so close to me that I can feel him. I'll bet I can even touch him and no one would know. I'm quite sure that's what he's thinking too. And sure enough, I haven't even reached out for the naan or his hand is touching my knee gently. He really is a bastard. I could shove it off of course, or stomp on his toes or something like that. But the truth is, I like it just where it is. And we both know it.

**~s~c~**

Dinner is an awkward affair. For me that is. Mum has cleared the air by actually apologizing, and everyone relaxed a bit after that. Everyone except me. Christian won't let me. His fingers have been drawing maddening patterns on my thigh whenever he's gotten the chance. I wouldn't have thought the idea of him touching me, right in front of my parents, where we can so easily have get caught, would be such a thrill for me. Although I'm terrified of being found out, the danger is strangely compelling.

_Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. __Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy…_

I still hear the words. But now they're more… seductive. The voice sounds crooning, tempting me to _be_ that bad boy. Then my dad looks at me and I sober up. I guess I'm still that bad boy. I'd prefer it if no one knew about it though. Especially my family. The thought of any one of them finding out is like a cold shower on my overheated hormones. I move back a bit, gently removing Christian's hand from my knee. He looks at me questioningly. _Not here. Not now_, I tell him with my eyes. _Later_? He mouths. My eyes dart over to Dad, who's bickering with Mum about whether or not the curry is too spicy for non-Indian folk. I look back at Christian and risk giving a tiny nod, warming myself in the soft glow of pleasure that fills his eyes.

**~s~c~**

'What took you so long'.

I yelp as I'm suddenly pulled by my shirt into yet another alleyway. Catching my breath, I respond: 'Had to help Mum didn't I'.

I lean back against the wall, trying to look casual. The effect however is ruined as Christian moves in on me, effectively pushing me into a corner. He doesn't even touch me, but he's standing so close… I realize once again just how big and strong he is. I suppress a shiver.

'Tonight was entertaining wasn't it?' he asks.

'If you mean entertaining for you, then yes' I agree.

He smirks knowingly.

'Don't do that again' I warn him.

'Come on, it was fun. Lusting after you… Not being able to touch ya'.

I'm not going to dignify that with an answer.

'So is someone threatening you now?' I ask, inwardly wincing at the sarcasm in my voice.

'No' he answers, slightly annoyed. 'Stop being so paranoid'.

I sigh and look away. He doesn't understand. He doesn't hear that voice inside _his_ head now does he? He doesn't understand why I'm so sure it's about me. And I can't blame him, because I have no rational explanation. I just… _know_.

'So what's the big emergency? I thought you wanted to see me?' I change the subject.

He just looks at me.

'You know why I want to see you' he says simply.

A shiver runs down my spine. Of course I do. For the same reason that I showed up here. To see him. To be with him. To kiss him, touch him, feel him, fuck him, hold him… I'm a good liar, I know I am. Yet he never fails to see through me. Still not touching me, he leans in, to kiss me I think. I twist my head away. But that exposes my left ear to his soft lips.

'Let's go back to the flat' he whispers in my ear. I don't respond, determinedly looking away. He breathes hot air on my earlobe and another shiver catches me.

'Go on… you know you want to…' he adds seductively.

Bastard. He's not even touching me, yet every nerve in my body is zinging with his presence. I'm supposed to meet Amira in half an hour. But of course I can't resist.

'I really shouldn't' I say in a half-hearted effort to not give in so easily. But he just looks at me and smiles, knowing he's won. Bastard. I'd pretend to be pissed off if I wasn't so eager I'm practically drooling. Somehow, I doubt I'd be very convincing. So in the end I decide to give in gracefully.

'Alright. Just five minutes though. Fifteen minutes tops' I sigh. He looks at me with a knowing smile. I decide to ignore that. Bastard.

**~s~c~**

**On to the next one ;-)**


	24. Chapter 24

**To make up for being away so long, i'm posting three chapters in one go. Please take note to read them in the right order. This chapter, chapter 24, is the second of the three. It is set on the day that Syed gets it in his head that it's Christian who's sent the "bad boy" card. Silly man... It's written in Christian's POV.**

******~s~c~**

This is driving me insane. The not knowing… Anything could be happening right now. Has Syed really told them? Really? Is this really happening?

Of course I want the truth to come out. I'd be lying if I said I didn't. I hate the way things are right now. It feels like I'm always… waiting. I want Syed to stand up to his family and tell them. About me, us… So I should be happy right now shouldn't I? But I'm not. I don't want it to happen like this. Not like this. It's obvious he's not ready. Sometimes I worry that he'll never be. That thought is unbearable… But no matter what, these things can't be forced. _He_ can't be forced. Could it really be Tamwar doing this? How could he do that to his own brother though? I don't understand.

Syed's miserable. So unhappy… So scared… And there's absolutely nothing I can do to help him. Since that first day that he kissed me, my instinct has been to take care of him, shield him, protect him. But now… I can't. Not with this. He'll have to handle whatever is happening on his own. And all I can do is wait. God I hate that… I look at my phone for the millionth time. Nothing. Why doesn't he call me? It's been hours for fucks sake! Doesn't he understand I'm going mental here? I slam my hand down on the table in frustration. That's it. I've had enough. I'm going to find him.

**~c~s~**

There he is! I can't believe it. I decided to check in the unit first, even though it's been hours since I left him there. And he's alone now. Good. He looks awful though…

'I've been sat by my phone all day' I start. He doesn't respond. 'Well?' I prompt him.

He takes a breath, still not looking at me and says: 'Tamwar doesn't know anything'.

I feel deflated. I've been pumped up on adrenalin all day, freakish scenarios going through my head. How everyone would react. How Syed would tell them. Or would he manage to wiggle his way out and fool them once again? And now… Nothing. Back to square one. Tamwar doesn't know, Amira doesn't know. That's good I suppose… But someone does. That hasn't changed. This isn't over. Not by a long shot…

I sit down on the desk.

'Then who does?' I ask.

The way he looks at me… I don't understand it. What's going on here? I'm starting to get worried now…

'No you're good, I'll give you that' he says.

'Sorry?' I respond, feeling puzzled. Again, what is going on here? I don't like this one bit. Look at him, sitting there like that with his arms crossed. No, really not liking this!

'The text?' is all he says.

'What text?' I ask.

'Was that the thinking was it? Try to flush me out?' he sneers.

'Sorry Sy, not with ya' is all I can say.

'Get Amira to dump me' he continues in the same accusing voice.

'Still not with ya' I respond, although I'm starting to I think. But I don't want to believe it.

He leans forward and says: 'Someone sent me a text earlier'. He looks at me expectantly. When I don't respond he quotes: '_Smile bad boy_?'

I can't believe this. I snort disparagingly.

'And you think that was me?' I deduce.

'Wind me up. Watch me fall apart' he goes on. I look at him with disbelief. Does he not know me _at all_?

'I didn't send you any text' I reply calmly.

'And then what? You and me move in together?'

'You are way off mark' I say, starting to feel pissed off.

'Stroll round the square hand in hand. Buy a puppy together?' He's on a roll now, can't be stopped.

'I've been sat by my phone, worrying about you all day' I insist, trying to make him listen to reason.

But he just goes on, painting a picture of what is apparently some ridiculously rose colored future I'm supposedly dreaming about which includes adopting some African orphan it seems. What the fuck is he on about? I try and reason with him, remind him that he would have recognized my number. But he just accuses me of getting another phone. I can't _believe_ we're having this conversation. I've been worried sick all day and now this?

'Why would I want to blackmail my own boyfriend' I finally cry out in exasperation.

Oh… Oh, I shouldn't have said that… I really shouldn't have...

Silence. We stare at each other for a moment, but I can't bare his accusing glare. So I look away.

'I am _not_ your boyfriend' he says quietly.

As I knew he would. But it still feels like a kick in the gut.

'Yeah well, turn of phrase' I reply quickly.

'You just don't get it, do you' he says.

Here we go.

'Oh I _get it_ Sy. Question is… do I really need it?'

Feeling disgusted, I turn and walk away. Fuck this. I'm done. But I haven't even set one foot out the door or I hear a text coming in on Sy's phone. I fish my phone out of my pocket and show it to him.

'Not me' I simply say.

His face crumbles. I can see the guilt hit him. Good. He grabs his own phone quietly, checking the message. I take it from him to read for myself.

'Bad boys always pay' he says, sounding numb.

I know he's upset, but right now I don't care. He should never have assumed it was me. Never. I turn and walk away.

**~c~s~**

My phone flashes his name at me enticingly. I should let it ring. Let him worry about _me_ for a change. But I don't.

'Christian?'

I want to stay angry, I really do. He obviously doesn't trust me, he accused me of trying to "out" him and he basically said some really hurtful things.

'Christian please… I'm sorry. I really am'.

And he is. I can hear it in his voice. My treacherous heart melts as I listen to his pleading words. But still I say nothing.

'I know you're there. Please say something' he says quietly.

'Like what?' I enquire icily. Good. Don't let him off that easy.

The line stays quiet for a while. All I can hear is his soft breathing. And even that is making me waver. I'm pathetic really.

'I… Look, I can't do this over the phone. I need to see you. Where are you?' he asks desperately.

'Meet me back at the flat in five' I say. Sure, I could resist for a bit longer. But who are we kidding here? I've gone along with being his "dirty little secret" for weeks now. I barely have any dignity left. When it comes to Syed, all I know is I want him. No matter what.

'Thank you' he says. Then he hangs up. I pour myself a drink and wait for him. I feel like I'm always doing that, waiting for him… I groan and slump back on the sofa, closing my eyes.

It's not even been one minute when I hear the key turn in the lock. I don't move and keep my eyes closed. I'm not going to make it too easy on him. And let's face it, if the sound of his voice can blast my resolve to smithereens… Well… I'm keeping my eyes closed, that's all I'm saying.

I can hear his soft footsteps come closer. I can feel the sofa incline as he places one knee next to mine. Then my face is being peppered with little kisses.

'I'm sorry Christian' he breathes in between kisses. 'I'm so sorry…'

His hand is stroking my cheek as he presses kisses on my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, my ears, my closed lids… Everywhere but on my lips. Damn he's good. Why am I still resisting? Why am I just sitting here, when I could be looking at him, holding him, snogging him… My eyes fly open and I look into those near black soft velvet pools that are his eyes. Without making any conscious decision to do so, my arms have slipped around his waist and pulled him into my lap. I can't help myself. When I see him, I need to touch him. It's like a kneejerk reaction, completely natural and irrepressible.

He leans his forehead against mine.

'I'm really sorry you know' he repeats earnestly.

'I know' I say.

He smiles and presses his lips softly against mine.

'I can't stay' he whispers.

My hearth twinges.

'But I could come over later if that's ok?' he suggests hopefully.

'Yeah alright' I agree.

He smiles happily and kisses me. I close my eyes and let him.

Five minutes later he's gone. He walked over to the door, looked at me over his shoulder one more time, smiled, and than he left. Leaving me to wait for him once again.

**~s~c~**

**One more to go :-)**


	25. Chapter 25

**To make up for being away so long I'm posting three chapters in one go. Please take note to read them in the right order. This chapter, chapter 25, is the final one of the three. It's on Vic ILY day, from Syed's POV.**

**~s~c~**

Mum is drilling out orders like we're in the army. Apparently, we're too slow and doing everything wrong. Jane's been enlisted to help out and I think she's about ready to explode. Can't blame her really. Mum is being impossible, even for her. Christian however, has decided to be amused by it all. Whatever she says to him, whatever order she barks out, he just says "Yes Zainab" and scurries off to do whatever it is she wants doing now. He throws us mock terrified looks which makes both Jane and I burst out in childish giggles. Which of course causes Mum to glare at us disapprovingly.

'Who's doing the chicken?' she suddenly shrieks.

No one answers.

'Tell me now!' Zainab threatens. 'This chicken is ruined! Who was responsible for it, ha?'

Jane and I both look at Christian. I think he's the only one of us brave enough to handle this.

'Er…' he starts. See? Even he has trouble with this. 'I think that was yours Zainab'.

'What? No it was _not_. I remember divvying out the orders. Syed on the beef, Jane on the veggies, Christian on cleaning duty and… Oh' she says. 'Right. Well. We'll need to start over, won't we. If you want something done right, you're best off doing it yourself I suppose. I'll pop out and get some more chicken'.

No apology of course. As if.

Seeing an opportunity, Jane says: 'Is it alright if I go now? The veggies are all cut and ready and I've been on my feet all day'.

'Fine', Mum answers. 'I guess we're about done here anyways. Except for the chicken, but I'll handle that'. And she's out the door, quickly followed by Jane.

So that just leaves me and Christian. Fine by me. Very fine indeed. I smile at him wickedly.

'You have a dirty mind mister. I'm looking after the beef here' Christian says sternly.

'And you're doing such a good job too' I say admiringly.

'I am, aren't I? Look, only one hand' he brags, as he stirs the meat with a wooden spoon.

I laugh.

'Show off'

'I'm just very talented, that's all' he huffs.

'Oh I know…' I admit willingly, letting my eyes rake all over his body.

'See! You _do_ have a dirty mind!' Christian accuses me, pointing the wooden spoon in my direction.

'Guilty as charged. Only when I'm around you though' I say as I slide my hand down his back to cup his arse and give it an appreciative little squeeze.

'Well that's alright then' he decides happily. He pulls me into him and steels a quick kiss. I squeeze his arse a bit harder, making him yelp.

'Not while we're at work' I say primly.

'Oh no, of course not. Wouldn't dream of it' he insists, as he lets go of the spoon to capture me in his arms fully and snog the breath out of me. Excellent.

**~s~c~**

'Fancy meeting you here' I say nonchalantly.

'Yeah fancy that…I mean, it's Denise and Lucas' wedding, pretty much the whole square is here, but why would you expect to run into little old me?' he answers, the twinkle in his eye matching mine.

God I'm happy. I've been so miserable what with that 'bad boy' business, that being happy now feels like the best feeling in the world. And it really is, isn't it? No more looking over my shoulder, no more worrying, no more blackmail…

'Why weren't you at the ceremony?' I ask.

'Arrant for Lucy' he says. 'Don't ask'.

I won't. I know he loves the girl, and I'm grateful and all that she hasn't gone blabbing to anyone, but still… She did try and blackmail me didn't she. I step in a bit closer.

'I've missed you you know…' I say softly.

His eyes light up which causes butterflies to flutter around in my stomach.

'Yeah? You only saw me yesterday' he says.

'That was different' I insist. 'Mum was there for one. And Jane. And I was wearing that stupid blue hat'.

'So was I' he points out. I smile.

'I know. But that hat looks good on you' I insist. 'Most things do'.

I finger the jacket of his suit appreciatively. He looks beautiful. I'm going to have a lot of trouble keeping my hands to myself tonight.

We're at a wedding party in the Vic. Half the square is here, but I hardly notice. Cause he's here, and that's all I care about. Christian's been drinking champagne all evening and so have I. Well, the non alcoholic kind for me of course. But the bubbles have gone to my head I think, I feel positively giddy. And I'm not even embarrassed about it. I just enjoy it. Amira's all caught up in the whole wedding thing and pretty much ignores me which suits me fine. I love that Christian and I can talk all night long and no one will bat an eye. We're just friends having a laugh as far as they're concerned.

'I knew there was something that I had to tell you' he says.

'What?' I ask, looking at his suddenly serious face. And then he says it.

'I love you'.

Immediately my reaction is to look around, check if anyone heard, if Amira heard. No, I don't think so.

'You're drunk' I accuse him.

'And you love me' he continues, as if he hasn't even heard me.

'Amira's watching, pack it in' I warn him. And she is. She's talking with Patrick and looking in our direction. She winks at me and I smile back at her.

'And all the self-deception in the world is _never_ gonna change that' he finishes quietly.

I've tried to distract him, but it's no use. I heard the words and I can feel their truth. He loves me. He just said it. And now he's looking at me and it's like his eyes are repeating the sentiment over and over again. He loves me. Words can be extremely powerful, I know that. Words spoken in anger can cut you like a knife. I know. I've felt it. But these words have a whole other kind of power. The power to take my breathe away. The power to take my head away. His lips feel like magnets to me right now, pulling me in with excessive force. God I want to kiss him… But I don't think that can be explained away as "two friends having a good time". _Later_, I promise him with my eyes.

I'm having such a lovely time. We're talking, flirting, even touching. Discreetly of course. At one point, I take his hand in mine and entwine our fingers. He looks at me and I… melt. No other way to describe it. I'm holding hands with Christian. We're like a couple of teenagers in love. Well, the love part's right anyway. _And you love me. And all the self-deception in the world is _never _gonna change that_. He's right. He knows it and I know it. But I don't say it. If I did… No, I don't want to think about that now…

**~s~c**

I feel like my head is spinning. I remember letting myself into his flat and into his bed. I remember getting rid of my clothes and snuggling up to him. I remember searching and finding his lips in the dark. The moment our lips touched, we started a kiss and haven't ended it yet. It feels like we've been kissing for hours. My lips are swollen and bruised, but no way do they want to be separated from his. Our tongues draw lazy circles around each other, sometimes in my mouth, sometimes in his. Bottom lips are sucked and nipped at. Tongues trace and caress lips and teeth. Moves are repeated over and over again. I feel like I'm sinking, sinking in a big white cloud of fluffy happiness.

My arms are wrapped around his waist. My toes trace a line up and down his leg. His hands are on my arse, pulling me close. I can feel his erection pressed against mine, but we don't move. I like the feel of it though. It's like a promise for later. When he'll be inside me. But for now, we just kiss…

'I'm glad you're here' he whispers.

'So am I' I admit.

His lips has left mine now, tracing a path down my neck, his teeth nibbling at the base. I moan appreciatively.

'Can you stay?' he asks me. I hear him hold his breath as he waits for my answer.

'Yes' I assure him. 'Everyone was asleep already when I came home. I grabbed some stuff and came right over'.

'Good' he answers and continues his path of kisses further down. When he reaches my nipple he flicks at it teasingly, making me squirm. He covers my chest, not forgetting my other nipple, and travels down to my bellybutton. He takes the soft skin beneath it carefully between his front teeth and bites down softly, eliciting a quivering sigh. Further down he goes, only nudging my cock gently before travelling on to place kisses all the way down to my toes. I should never have told him I could stay. It made him think he could take his time. I hate when he does that. Except that I love it of course. I sigh happily as he grabs my ankles and makes me flip over so he can trace his way back up. By the time he reaches the back of my knees, I'm shivering pleasantly. Life is good, I decide gleefully.

**~s~c~**

**Phew, I think I need a break now! Three new chapters, I know _I'm _impressed. I think I deserve a review now, right?**


	26. Chapter 26

**I'm guessing this one doesn't need any introduction. Enjoy!**

**~s~c~**

'Ah come on, you love me really' Christian jokes.

I look at him. I know it's meant to be a joke, but the words don't seem all that funny. They feel pretty uncomfortable actually. I quickly turn away and try and change the subject.

'I should be getting back' I say. But he won't let me off the hook.

'It wouldn't kill you to admit it. I… love… you… See?' he continues.

I know what he needs to hear from me. In truth, it isn't all that much to ask. But something's holding me back. I've told hollow lies before and did not blink an eye. I've said words that meant nothing to me, just because I knew it would get me what I wanted. So why do I have so much trouble saying the three words that I know to be the absolute truth? Words that want nothing more then to be spoken, words that are desperate to be heard? I _know_ why. Because to say them, is to _make_ them true. Once I've said them, that's it. The perfect little bubble I've built myself, where it's just me and Christian and the world is far far away, will burst. The thoughts I've crammed into a small corner of my mind behind locked doors, will come tumbling out. If I love Christian, then how can I marry Amira? How can I be with Christian without losing my family? How can I reconcile the fact that I love a man with my faith? That's why I can't say the words. They will cause an earthquake, shaking me, my life, my very being to the core, leaving nothing but destruction and casualties in its path. Because let's face it…this can't possibly end well, can it…

'Tell you what, you can whisper it if you want. If that helps. There's no one here…' he keeps going.

There's no stopping him. And it seems that there is no stopping _me_ either. Despite the fact that I am absolutely _convinced_ that saying those words will cause all sorts of trouble, I just can't seem to hold them in. They are dancing through my head, taunting me with their beauty. They want to reach out to him, to answer his plea, to _exist_. I'm torn between wanting to keep everything at bay, retain the status quo we've been living in and… simply letting go. My indecisiveness is killing me. I look at Christian, as if that will somehow tell me what to do.

In a weird way, it does… The way he looks at me, quiet, expectant, hopeful… It tugs at my heart, making the words jump to the tip of my tongue. But I wait too long… I can see his faith wavering and then crumble as I remain silent. He hangs his head in defeat. The disappointment is almost tangible. I don't ever want to see him like this. _Ever_. And just like that, the words spill out…

'I love you…'

There… I've said it. I wait for the earthquake to come and carry me away. Instead, I'm struck with the brilliance of his smile, it seems to radiate joy. It's so powerful it makes my skin tingle. Feeling this good, I can almost imagine things might turn out alright after all. How can anything that makes you feel this good be a bad thing?

What's to be said after that? Nothing. Nothing, that's what. Wordlessly, we turn on our heels and make our way over to the flat. Once we're inside, he takes off my coat and shrugs off his own. Then he opens up his arms and I step in, slipping my own arms round his waist. My head finds that perfect spot, tucked underneath his chin. He gives me a soft squeeze, I squeeze him back, but other than that, we just stand there, holding each other.

My head is quiet for once. All I hear is a contented hum, coming from deep inside of me. I concentrate on his sounds instead, the steady beating of his heart, the calm breathing… I can feel my own heart following his, falling in pace. It feels like we share but one body, one heart between us. I love that sensation. I consciously breathe with him, in and out, enhancing the feeling of being one.

We move towards the bed as if we've verbally agreed on it. As soon as the bed hits the back of his legs, he lets himself fall back, pulling me with him. We both manage to kick off our shoes without using our hands, which is a good thing as mine are still clasped around him and I have no intention of letting go. We nestle ourselves in the middle of the big bed. He lies on his back and pulls me to him with his right arm. I snuggle up to him, resting my head on his broad chest. My fingers sneak under his sweater, gliding over naked skin. I love how warm blooded he is. It's December yet all he wears is this soft thin sweater with nothing underneath. His breath catches as I run my blunt nails across his stomach. I feel his fingers unbuttoning my shirt. Soon, fingers, his and mine, are opening buttons, pulling on clothes, pushing down pants, and we are naked once again.

Being naked feels so natural when I'm with him. Naked flesh was not shown in our house, always covered, shameful, sinful… Back in school, whenever I had to get undressed in front of the other boys, I'd have this ritual. It was all thought out, designed to leave skin bare for only a minimal amount of time. I marvelled at the ease with which some boys just stood around and chatted to each other, naked as the day they were born. Couldn't believe it and knew that that would never, _never_, be me. When I got older, the limited sexual experiences I had would always be in the dark, if possible still partly dressed. But ever since that first time Christian looked at me while I was naked, everything changed for me. His silent approval, his admiring glances, have made me feel secure in my own skin. He thinks I'm beautiful; therefore that's what I am.

We're still clinging to each other, naked now. I can feel my blood start to zing. Soon, this won't be enough. Soon, my hands need to feel the skin of his chest, back, legs, just everywhere… My lips need to feel his and then taste his skin. I know it's the same for him. I can hear his heartbeat and his breath quicken along with mine. I can _feel_ the urgency in his body, as I can feel it in mine.

I'm not sure who's the first to give in, but suddenly his lips are on mine and our hands start exploring. His hands twine through my hair, cradling my head delicately. My right hand is on his cheek, while my left hand traces his spine up and down.

It's so quiet here. I'm used to a lot of noise, Mum and Dad arguing, loud cooking sounds, Amira's constant nattering. But now, here with Christian, the silence feels like a cocoon. Only soft sounds, like puffs of breath, sensuous moans and sighs are allowed here. No words, not tonight. Just touches, kisses, caresses and soft sounds of pleasure. I've told him that I love him. Now I'm showing him.

I love his strong hands. I take one in mine and press a tender kiss in the palm. I trace a path of kisses up his arm, starting with the wrist, up the sensitive skin of his inner arm, nuzzling in the crook. I travel further up, along the upper arm and shoulder. As I reach his collarbone, I trace it with my teeth, taking care not to bite down too hard. Moving on, I suck in his nipple, making him shudder. My hand has slipped down between us, searching and finding his quivering cock. I take it in my hand and squeeze it gently while working his nipple with my tongue and teeth. I listen to the beautiful soft "ah" and "oh" sounds he makes, feeling like a musician playing their beloved instrument. I move on to the other nipple and start over.

My hand is stroking lazily up and down his cock, using the moistness at the tip as a lubricant. I release his nipple from my mouth so I can look up at him, take in the magnificent sight he makes. He has surrendered to my hands and mouth, his head thrown back, his mouth open in a gasp. His hands are beside him, clawing into the sheets. His legs are fully stretched, his toes curling fiercely. I marvel at the beauty of that strong, powerful body, completely at my mercy. The realisation that he trusts me this much is intoxicating.

I cover his body with mine and kiss him hard. My hand is joined by his, enveloping both our erections in a firm two handed grip. I moan as my oversensitive cock is stroked and rubbed deliciously. My tongue invades his mouth demandingly, claiming the familiar territory with confidence. My free hand roams around his chest, tugging at the chest hair firmly. He squirms beneath me, his arched back lifting his body slightly off the bed. I groan as his hand slips into my hair, massaging my neck and the base of my scalp methodically. He knows what that does to me, making my limbs go slack and my body melt on top of him. Seizing the momentum, he thrusts his tongue into my mouth and bucks his hips urgently against mine. His hand speeds up, taking mine with it, pumping our cocks so very fast now. My hips thrust forward, helpless to resist Christian's insistent rhythm. I break our kiss and burry my face in the crook of his neck, gently nipping at he base. His hand is still in my hair, making me want to rub my face against it and purr like a contented kitten.

I'm soaring high now, thrusting my hips, breathing in his scent. A very soft but insistent noise wants to intrude on me, on this moment. Vaguely I realize it is my phone that I've put on vibrate. Someone's trying to reach me, but they'll just have to wait. There's only room for him and me now, and the feeling of our bodies striving together. It's like it isn't just my cock that's about to explode but my whole body and even my soul feels like it's about to shatter. We move together, grinding our hips, seeking each others lips for another urgent kiss. My heart feels like it's going to burst with the overload of emotions, but I'm not scared. This feels so good, so _right_, that I can't help but go with it.

My knees clamp round his thighs as I thrust faster, faster, my body yearning for release. I'm so hot that I feel like I'm on fire. I push my cock against his again and again, my ears ringing with the sounds of heavy pants, thumping hearts and guttural groans. So close now, so close… I feel like we're flying together, ever higher, all the way up to the sun. Then he cries out hoarsely, releasing all over our cocks and my belly. I throw my head back and _scream_ as my own orgasm grips me. The strength has left my limbs as I fall on top of him, panting heavily. I press a quick kiss on his chest, an inadequate gesture for what just happened here, but all I'm capable of right now. Our connection feels so strong, that I wouldn't be surprised if I could actually _see_ it. In the back of my mind I'm wondering what will happen now, now that we've ventured onto this new road together that I can't backtrack from. I can't because I don't want to. I _need_ him like I need air to breathe. I'll just have to figure it all out somehow. I will.

Again I hear the insistent buzzing of my phone. Someone wants to reach me badly. I think I'm going to have to answer that. I sigh and lift myself up to pick my jeans from the floor.

'Leave it'

Christian is looking at me, his eyes pleading.

I hesitate.

'I can't' I say. 'It might be important. I heard it go off before'.

He closes his eyes in defeat. No, that's not right. Not after this. I have to make him understand that whomever is on the phone, whatever they want, _we_ are what's important. What happened tonight matters, more then anything ever has.

'I love you' I say the words that began this wondrous night. His eyes fly open and he beams at me.

'I love you too' he whispers. Then he pulls me in for a slow, toe curling snog.

By the time I come up for air, the buzzing has stopped. Still slightly dazed, I fish my phone out of my jeans pocket and check my voicemail.

'Syed…'

It's Mum, I hear straight away. Something's wrong. She sounds… frantic. I sit up with a start.

'Syed, where _are_ you? Please, _please_ pick up the phone. I'm at the hospital. It's your father. You need to come Syed. Please… hurry'.

And just like that, my entire world crumbles.

**~s~c~**

**Way to ruin the moment, isn't it :-( Don't blame me, blame TPTB! Or Massood, that works too...**


	27. Chapter 27

**Some sad times ahead I'm afraid :-( This chapter is from Christian's POV. Thank you for the beta Rhumba!**

**~c~s~**

'What about the food? Can't we save some money on that?' Amira suggests.

Zainab looks at her as if she's about ready to explode.

'What, do you want me to just serve one dish, ha? Or just some plain naan perhaps? What will people think!' Zainab rants. 'Food is our business Amira, we're not cutting costs on that. These people are our guests for crying out loud!'

'Alright, alright, I'm sorry for suggesting it!' Amira exclaims, hands held up in mock surrender.

'And so you should' Zainab huffs.

'Mum…'

That's him of course. He's been quiet up to now, letting Zainab and Amira battle it out on their own. The soft pleading tone rips through me like a knife. Why am I doing this to myself? Why is he? I keep my eyes on the onions I've just started chopping. Great. At least now I'll have an excuse if I start to blubber.

Amira and Zainab have been droning on and on about that fucking wedding for what feels like hours. The last thing I want is to be reminded of Syed, marrying someone that isn't me… I swallow and am grateful for the stupid onions already, because I know my eyes must be turning suspiciously red by now. Syed has mostly been quiet, choosing to concentrate on carefully seasoning the beef instead of on the wedding talk.

We haven't been together since the morning after the accident, now over a week ago. He's been ignoring me, not answering my calls or texts, making sure we're never alone together. I've seen him of course, here in the unit, but we're never alone here. There's always Zainab or Jane and now even Amira. Not that she's helping with any of the cooking of course. As if. They can't have had enough time to discuss cutting wedding costs at home, since they feel it necessary to continue on here. Unfortunately I can't object. What could I say? So I just stay here, in my own little corner and peel and chop onions quietly.

'The tablecloths I saw on that website I told you about would be perfectly fine. And they're about half the price of that one you picked out'.

Apparently Zainab has some cost cutting ideas of her own. And Amira disagrees. Quelle surprise…

'What, is that the one that also sells the tea cosies and pink fluffy earmuffs? I don't think so!' Amira thrills.

'Come on Amira, there's no harm in looking is there?' Syed implores softly.

'Don't take her side Syed, you _always_ take her side!' Amira accuses.

Zainab smiles smugly. I can't actually _see_ the smile, but I just know it's there.

'Yes Amira, why don't you just take a look? If you don't like the selection, I promise I won't mention it again' Zainab graciously offers. She wipes her hands clean on her apron and heads over to the little office to turn on the computer.

'Fine!' Amira huffs. She throws Syed a look of anger at his betrayal and follows Zainab in.

Alone at last. Well, sort of. I can still hear the two women bickering in the office, but at least they're not in the same room as us. Not sure I'll ever get a better chance, I grab it.

'Sy…'

He stiffens and keeps his eyes on the beef. Even in that ridiculous uniform, with that stupid blue hat, he looks absolutely beautiful.

'Sy come on, you're going to have to talk to me eventually' I urge quietly.

'There's nothing left to say Christian. I'm getting married to Amira, that's all you need to know' he says, his words so sharp they have a little bite to them.

I close my eyes and sigh. My eyes are burning with tears and even I can't be sure if they're caused by the onions or the intense grief I feel every time I look at him.

'You can't seriously go through with it! It's me you love, not her! How can you ever be happy in that sham of a marriage' I implore him.

'Shut up Christian' he hisses, shooting a guilty look towards the office door.

'Come on Sy, you're being ridiculous' I blurt, exasperated, and know immediately that I've made a monumental mistake.

'I am _not_ being ridiculous' he sneers, his voice heavy with righteous indignation. 'I happen to care about my family, my fiancée, my faith. I'm well aware of the fact that none of those things mean anything to you'.

'You _know_ that's not true. I'm sorry alright? I shouldn't have said that. I know this is difficult for you, I do. But you can't just ignore me like this. I love you and you love me. That _has_ to mean something' I try desperately.

His shoulders slump and finally, finally he looks at me.

'It's not enough Christian. I'm sorry, but it's just not enough' he says quietly.

I feel like he's ripped my heart out with his bare hands. The soft spoken words hit me harder then any shouted ones ever could. He is everything to me, but still I'm not enough for him. The tears run freely down my cheeks as I look at the man I love more then I've ever loved anyone in my life.

'You see, I _told_ you they were nice ha?' Zainab proclaims as she struts back into the kitchen.

I rip my eyes from Syed's gaze and turn back to my onions. Not in time though it would seem.

'Christian? Are you crying? You alright babe?' Amira asks gently.

I nod and smile through my tears.

'Just the onions love. I'm fine. I'm always fine, aren't I?' I reply, feeling my heart contract painfully at the lie.

'Come on, I'll show you the tablecloths we picked out. And I've seen some lovely drapery as well that we could use. Did you know…'

I tune her out, smile and nod as I follow her to the office, glad to get away from him for now.

**~c~s~**

Checking my phone for new messages from him is a compulsion I can't repress. Still nothing of course. I don't even know why I keep checking. It's not as if I actually expect him to call. He's been very clear. He's made his decision. Again I feel the painful twinge in my heart that has become way too familiar.

I've lost him. It's only now starting to sink in. Just when I thought we were finally getting somewhere, just when I started hoping that he might choose me after all… That we could be together, be happy…

'He's not going to call you know'.

I look up and force a smile for my favourite niece.

'Hey Luce. What are you doing home so early?' I ask.

Ian and Jane have gone out for the evening and the twins were invited to a party. So guess who got roped into babysitting Bobby? Not that I mind at all. He's a lovely boy. I had a blast reading him some of my own old favourite bedtime stories.

'The party was a drag. Should have known, Alice is probably the most boring girl in our year. She only invited me because she fancies Peter,' Lucy says, rolling her eyes dramatically.

'Decided to skip the joint and hang out with your number one uncle instead?' I prompt.

'You know it!' she smirks. 'So… are you going to tell me what happened between you and Syed?'

I look at her silently, not sure how much I should tell.

'That bad eh?' she asks quietly.

I sigh and rub my eyes.

'I'm afraid it is,' I admit.

'You think it's permanent? I mean, he's rejected you and then taken you back before hasn't he?' she prods.

'I don't know. I think… I think this might be it,' I croak. God, I can't believe I said it. Everything just seems so hopeless right now…

**~c~s~**

I throw my hands up in the air and lose myself to the thumping bass of some seventies disco classic. Can't remember what it's called, can't remember who it's by, can't give a fuck. I just dance. My feet move in a steady pace, my hips swing back and forth and my arms sway with the beat. My eyes are closed, but fly open as someone bumps into me. It's some cute blonde in leather pants. Nice. I smile provocatively and pull him in to dance with me. He throws his head back and laughs, moving his hips in time with mine.

I look around and see there's quite a few men staring openly at me. Good. I didn't wear these low riding jeans and that ridiculously tight vest for nothing now did I. I compare my dance partner with the rest of the blokes in the buzzing nightclub, trying to decide if I should exchange him for something hotter. No, I judge. I've already captured the fittest bloke here. He leans in and shouts something.

'What?' I shout back, giving him my ear.

'The name's Daniel' he tries again.

Whatever…

'Want a drink?' he continues as I make no response.

'I think I've had about enough' I answer truthfully. I know I'll have a blaring headache in the morning as it is.

He eyes me up and down thoughtfully.

'Wanna go back to mine?' he suggests, eyebrow cocked.

I want to say no. I want to say "I have a boyfriend thank you very much and he wouldn't much appreciate that". I want to tell him to fuck off, that he's not the one I want. Hell, there's a lot of things I want. Doesn't mean I'm going to get any of them now does it…

'Sure, why not' I answer instead and throw an arm around his shoulders to lead him off towards the exit.

**~c~s~**

**Reviews still very much welcome :-)**


	28. Chapter 28

**It's a couple of days before Christmas. Christian is trying to talk to Syed but Syed isn't listening. This is from Syed's POV.**

**~s~c~**

'What? It's a well known fact that gay men fancy anything with a pair of trousers and a pulse. Never mind nice eyes. Christian probably just can't help himself,' Amira insits.

My heart is beating so loud that I'm sure they must be able to hear it. Where is this coming from? I've never noticed Amira being suspicious of Christian before. If she managed to figure out this much, who knows what else she might find out. And why is she saying this in front of Mum? Who knows what Mum will do if she gives Amira's words any credit. I'm thinking I should say something, but can come up with nothing. What can I possibly say that won't make them even more suspicious?

'Oh dear God forbid,' Mum says, her voice heavy with disgust. I look at her in desperation. _This is how she would look at me if she ever found out the truth_, I think as I feel fear trickling down my skin.

'Is that why I keep catching him standing around staring at him? Oh no no no no no. He's pining for you? The shame of it Syed, I could not cope with that!' Mum continues.

I feel my eyes bulge as I think desperately of what I could say, _anything_ I could say to make this stop.

'I'm joking!' Amira cries out, laughing. I look at her. In this moment, I really hate her. She has no idea what she's almost done. It's all a joke to her, isn't it. _That's because you haven't told her anything_. I tell my head to shut up.

'Of course I'm joking. Auntie, Christian is our friend!' Amira explains.

For a moment I think Mum isn't going to believe her. Like the thought is in her head now, and she can't let it go. But then her face contorts in anger and she splutters:

'Amira you…'

I try and disguise my sigh of relief. I don't think I manage too well because Mum looks at me questioningly. I smile at her which seems to reassure her. Amira of course notices nothing. She's crowing about how she's fooled us, and how we should have seen our faces. I think it's about time she left.

'Don't you have a hair appointment soon?' I ask innocently.

Amira jumps and checks the time.

'Not in another thirty minutes. But I have to pick up my order from the pharmacy first, or it'll be closed. See you babe!' She gives me a quick peck on the cheek, gives Mum a little wave and rushes out the door. Mum rolls her eyes at me and gets back to preparing dinner.

**~s~c~**

Christian. I've been trying to avoid him for almost a week now. When he pulled out of organising the Mehndi dance, it was a relief more than anything else. It was hurting him to be so involved, and seeing him suffer like that was almost impossible to bear. To be honest, I thought he'd keep his distance after that. I thought he'd finally accepted that we were through. That I _am_ going to marry Amira. That my future is with her, like it never was with him.

But not so. He keeps trying to speak to me and I keep trying to avoid him. How long is this going to go on for? I can hear Amira greet Christian on her way out of the unit. I keep my eyes averted and wait. Wait for him to start speaking again. Wait for him to touch me, even though we're not alone. Wait for him to… But he doesn't do any of those things. My shoulders sag in relieve as I hear the sound of him walking away. Glad for the distraction, I get a move on with the chicken and try and forget about him for now.

The preparations for the Bhatti function keep me busy for about three hours. I had to do it all myself, and I'm a bit rushed for time as I hurriedly stack all of the food in crates. I quickly change out of my uniform and start carrying out the trays. Suddenly, my arm is grabbed and I'm being pulled around a corner.

'What are you playing at?' I complain as I try and hide how much he startled me.

Christian. Of course it's him. He's already giving another speech about having to talk to me. I only half listen to him, too busy looking for an escape.

Then he starts talking about that night. That night that started out as the most wonderful night in my live and ended with me waking up to a nightmare. It seems so long ago now, but in truth it's only been three weeks. Three weeks since I told him I loved him. Three weeks since I was in his arms, kissed his lips, felt his naked body against mine. I swallow.

'I can't do this anymore Sy… Watching the two of you together. It's killing me,' he says, so softly that it hurts.

'Well what are you saying?' I ask, feeling more than a bit worried. This is going to be bad, I just know it.

'That I need to get away,' he states simply.

'For how long?' is all I can ask.

'It's a one-way ticket'. My heart stops. But he goes on: 'One for me, and there's one for you. Look just… think about it. We slip away now and Zainab need never know. This is our chance. A new life, together, away from here'.

Why is he doing this? Why is he dangling this in front of me? Doesn't he understand how difficult he's making it for me?

'You're out of your mind,' I say, and try to walk away.

He stops me and says: 'Why keep pretending? Taxi's booked for six o clock'.

**~s~c~**

The rest of the day, the way his eyes looked as he asked me to come with him, haunt me. The more I try and push them away, the more they seem to loom up in front of me. Silently pleading, betraying a world of pain and the slightest tendril of a desperate kind of hope. A hope I know will be crushed until there's nothing left but pain and disappointment. I'm not sure he'll be able to take it. And I _know_ I won't be able to.

I look to my right to see Amira clinging on to my arm. She's happily chattering away. About the wedding of course, what else? I rub my temple as I can feel the tension headache I've had since this morning build up to an unbearable level. I wish I could just shake her off. She feels like a dead weight hanging on to my neck instead of my arm. I quicken my pace, forcing her to let go.

'Wait up babe, I just have to tell Denise something' she calls after me. I look round to see her exchange a quick word with her friend. She asked me to wait, but I can't seem to stop my feet from moving on. When I step round the corner, I know why.

Before me I see Christian, about to get into a cab. That's it than. Whatever I tell myself, how ever sure I am that I absolutely cannot go with him, my feet and my heart have carried me over to him.

He looks up at me and his eyes begin to shine. I start panicking, understanding what this must look like to him. I didn't want to hurt him, and now I've gone and made it all worse. I can hear Amira's footsteps coming up from behind me already. I want to look away from him, certain I don't want to see his eyes the moment he realises I haven't come to join him. I can feel my eyes dart back and forth, trying to look away yet not quite being able to. And then I feel Amira's arm slip through mine.

'You'll find your Syed one day babe,' she says.

Absolutely gutted. I knew it would be hard to see, but still I'm unprepared. I felt his pain as sharply and as deeply as if it had been my own. The way his face went from soaring hope to utter devastation feels like a kick in the gut. His shoulders sag and his face sets in resignation. He looks at me one more time before stepping into the cab and out of my life.

As I see the cab pulling away, realisation finally dawns on me. He's gone… My own feeling of loss hits me so hard I have to lean on Amira's arm for support as my eyes brim with tears. How could I have been so blind? I've been obsessing about how hard this was going to be for _him_, that only now that he's gone do I realise what _I _have lost. Even though I've resigned myself to being with Amira, I took comfort in the fact that he was at least _there_. It was never a conscious thought, which is all I have to defend myself with. Only now do I realise what position I put him in. Only now do I see how near impossible it will be to live my life without him. Only now do I feel how deep our connection runs, how he's a part of me as I am of him.

Through my unspeakable sadness, I still feel a little relief. Relieved that one of us at least will have a chance to move on now. A chance to be free again, happy even. I feel tears run down my cheeks unchecked and don't even care. I stand there and stare at the spot where Christian stood for I don't know how long. Even as I feel a small tug on my arm and Amira leads me away, I twist my head round to look at it for as long as I can.

**~s~c~**

**Reviews still very much welcome :-)**


	29. Chapter 29

**This is from Christian's POV. **

**~c~s~**

I don't know who I am anymore. I'm not the same Christian Clarke I was before he touched my life. That Christian would have told everyone to go fuck themselves, laugh heartily and get on to the next bloke. There would have been some pain, but that pain would have stayed hidden and be easily forgotten with the right amount of alcohol and the prospect of the next good fuck.

I'm not the same man I was when I was with Syed. I think that man may have shrivelled up and died the moment Syed stood there and watched me leave. That Christian would have looked at this beautiful city with a light in his heart. He would have sniffed up the foreign scents eagerly, smiled at the sight of children playing games in the street, relished in the taste of a pretty bowl of pasta.

When I look in the mirror, a stranger looks back at me. His features are vaguely familiar, but the eyes seem to have no soul. It's painful to look at him. So I don't.

I spend my days walking the streets of Barcelona. I walk and walk, wandering around aimlessly. I don't know why I'm here. This might have been Stockholm, New York, Manchester, Dublin, Rome… Anywhere but London, anywhere but the East End, anywhere away from him…

I talk to no one. I utter a minimum of words to buy some bread, some wine, some cheese, but that's it. I've avoided the gay district since the first night. I don't want to go there, don't want to even _think_ of going there.

As I look up, I notice I've found my way to Las Ramblas once again. I've ended up here every single day. As I start walking down the long street, the hustle and bustle comforts me. The energy of the place manages to sneak through the barriers of grey that surround me. This place reminds me that I am in fact still alive. As I reach the end of the street, I pick up my pace, already smelling the salty air of the sea.

The cold wind coming form the sea bites my skin, but I don't care. Watching the turmoil of the water brings me in touch with the turmoil that is going on beneath my own non-moving surface. I recognise the whirling, the crashing, the breaking of waves as the violent movements of my own emotions. I hate the dull mist that surrounds me, suppressing every feeling to nothingness. But I'm also scared of the day the mist will lift and my emotions will break free. I'm afraid of what they will do, of what _I_ will do when that happens. When, not if. They are too turbulent and far too powerful to be kept down indefinitely. I'm afraid they will destroy anything in their path, including me. Or what's left of me…

**~c~s~**

Something feels different today. I don't know what, but something has changed. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and get up. As I make my way toward the shower, I examine my feelings to try and assert what has changed. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror I see physical proof of that change. The eyes. There's some life there after all. And emotion, a strong emotion, pushing its way toward the surface. I don't recognise it, but it's good to see some kind of emotion, any kind of emotion, there.

All day long I'm restless. I can't find any peace, not in the small narrow alleys, not in the quaint little coffee shop I stop at, not even when I find my usual spot watching over the sea. Everything annoys me. The noise of the traffic, the loud argument that woman is having with her tall friend, waiting in line at the bakery… Again I walk and walk and walk, my pace so quick it is almost a run. But the restlessness stays. As I round a corner, a sign giving directions to the zoo catches my eye. On a whim, I decide to check it out, but it doesn't take me long to realise I made a mistake coming here. I find the animals either boring, smelly or both, the children whiny and too noisy and the adults just get in my way.

Not able to think of anything else, I head back to the hotel and throw myself on the bed. I close my eyes and force myself to go to sleep. I want to cry in relieve as I feel the tug of darkness pulling me down.

When I open my eyes again, several hours later, the room around me is washed in darkness. I check the time on my phone. It's 1 AM. Now what? It's the middle of the night and I'm wide awake. I sigh and run a hand through my hair. There's only one place to go now, isn't there…

**~c~s~**

I hate this kind of music, but tonight it's just what I need. The heavy base vibrates through my body and is almost strong enough to make my teeth clatter. The angry thumping beat is loud enough to drown everything else out and allows me to move to it with the speed and angular movements that I need.

I wouldn't say I was dancing. This is not dancing. All I do is keep moving, never stand still. My eyes are closed as I try and _become_ the beat, to only exist as part of the music. There's no one else here but me, not if I can't see them.

When I walked into the club, I saw several pairs of eyes whirl in my direction. I recognised the look of horny men smelling some fresh meat. I remember being one of those men once. They're out of luck tonight though. I have no interest in hooking up with any of them. Syed made sure of that. That thought had me heading straight to the bar.

After I downed a couple of beers I found myself in the middle of the dance floor and haven't left it since. But instead of finding some release, I feel the tension build up inside me like a storm about to become a hurricane. I've long since identified that flash of emotion I saw earlier as anger. This anger has been with me since I got up this morning and it is filling me up until I feel about ready to explode.

I'm angry at everyone and everything. I'm glare at the sun for hiding behind dark clouds and fume at the see for being calm and tranquil when I am anything but. I'm annoyed at the barman for not giving me another beer quick enough. I'm pissed off at that bloke that tried to corner me in the loos. But most of all I'm furious with Syed for making me feel this way. And at myself for letting him.

What the hell am I doing? Am I just going to leave him to it? Let him fool himself and everyone else into thinking that he can actually do this? Let him pretend I don't exist, _we_ don't exist, while he plays happy families with his soon-to-be-wife? Let him…

My thoughts are rudely interrupted as a body smashes into me with force. My eyes fly open and before I know what I'm doing, I'm shoving a blonde curly haired man away from me and giving him an earful. I'm not sure if the bloke speaks any English, but the swearwords I'm throwing at him are international enough, so he should get the picture. It takes me a while to register the mumbled apologies and the trace of fear in the offending man's eyes. Instantly I feel disgusted with myself. He is not the one I'm mad at now is he... This is not _his_ fault. I grind my teeth and force myself to calm down.

'I'm really sorry mate. I totally overreacted. Here, let me buy you a drink,' I offer.

The man looks at me apprehensively for a moment, but then accepts my offer and we head over to the bar.

Handing him a whiskey, I say: 'Look, I'm really sorry alright? Don't pay any attention to me, I'm just in a horrible mood. I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that, this has nothing to do with you'.

'It's ok,' he says. 'Man trouble?'

I smile ruefully.

'Isn't it always?' I counter.

He chuckles and nods.

'I'm Bruno by the way. And you are…?' he asks, raising his eyebrow speculatively.

And there we are... In a place I've been so many times before. We'll have a chat, have a few drinks, both knowing that all we're doing is killing time until we can find somewhere more private and well… fuck. I find that I'm decidedly… not interested. I make my excuses and walk away.

Heading toward the hotel, I feel the anger surge up again, helped along by the fast amounts of alcohol I consumed tonight. Why am I hiding here like some coward? Why am I letting this wedding happen? It's December 30th, there's still time to stop this horrible joke of a wedding. What the hell am I still doing here? I storm up the hotel stairs, rush trough my room door and start throwing everything in my suitcase randomly. I'm going home.

**~c~s~**

By all rights, I should feel shattered. But I really don't. I haven't gotten any sleep since yesterday afternoon. I've spent half the night and part of the day slumped in an uncomfortable plastic airport chair, waiting for an available seat on a flight to London. I must have driven the old lady sitting next to me on the plane insane with my restlessness and the incessant drumming of my fingers. She was too polite to say anything though.

And now I'm here, in Walford, like I haven't been gone at all. I pay the cab driver, dump my bag and go looking for Syed. It's closing in on midnight and I want to, _have to_, find him before the start of the New Year. I look over at the Massood house. Normally I'd stay clear of that place, especially so close to the wedding, but I don't care. I have to find him, I have to find him _now_. Whenever I try and think beyond the part where I find him and try and think of what I'll actually do, I hit a blank wall. All I know is that I have to find him and then somehow knock some sense into him.

I walk over to the Massood house and am about to ring the bell, knock on the door or do whatever it takes to get him to come out, when I hear his voice out on the square. I turn around and see him handing a scarf to some random girl.

I can't get over how casual he looks. Like he hasn't just stomped all over my heart, like he's forgotten about me already. He's wearing jeans and his leather jacket. My heart tugs at the sight of him, which makes the anger boil up anew. Well fuck that! I'm not letting him ignore me, forget about me, get on with his life like I was never a part of it! He's the man I love and I _refuse_ to give him up without a fight.

I wait to see him head over to Pat's house, where there's obviously a party going on. I give him a head start before following him in. I scan the crowd in the living room and see that he isn't there. I'm about to check the loos when I spot him through the open kitchen door.

All of a sudden I know _exactly_ what I'm going to do. I walk in to the kitchen and grab onto his hand as I close the door behind me. Holding his hand, being close to him again, steels my determination. He looks up at me, wide eyed and startled, as I pull him into me and proceed to snog the life out of him.

**~c~s~**

To be continued…

**Hope you ejoyed that :-) The next chapter will start where this one ended, but from Syed's POV. Reviews still very much welcome!**


	30. Chapter 30

**This chapter is from Syed's POV.**

**It is dedicated to the lovely vf who "gently persuaded me" to hurry up and write a new chapter. I've enabled anonymous reviews now, so you'd better leave me a review *mad***

**Thank you Rhumba for another beta :-)**

**~s~c~**

I'm alright. I really am. I think I could even say I'm… content. Yes, yes that's right. Content.

It's New Years Eve and I'm about to have everything I've ever wanted. Mum and Dad love me, are proud of me. I'm about to be married to a beautiful wife and start my own family. The business is doing well…Yes, things are definitely looking up. I can _do_ this. I can. I know I can.

It's good that Christian went away. Good for him, good for me. I'm not sure I could have moved on the way I have if he were still here. If I had to see him everyday, see him maybe meeting someone else, fall in love, be happy again. I… I mean I do want that for him of course. Of course! I'm just not sure I could bear seeing it, that's all. That would have been… hard. Of course it was difficult for him as well, watching me and Amira together. I care about her, I really do, and that must have been hard for him to see.

I did miss him of course. When he left… even though I _knew_ it was for the best, that didn't stop it from hurting like hell. In fact… there were times when I thought I wouldn't be able to do it. Wouldn't be able to go through with the wedding. God how I wanted to get on a plane and just fly to him, be with him again, have his arms around me…

He was all I thought about. He was everything. Everything… But I'm ok now. I am. I think I… Yes, I suppose I do still love him. A lot. But he's not here and Amira is. I'm sure she'll make a good wife. And we'll be happy together, won't we? Maybe I'm not quite there yet, but I'm working on it. I can do it. After all, I no longer think of him every single second of every minute of every day. Not _every_ second. And it can only get better from here on in. The wedding is shaping up to be a fantastic day. God only knows how we're going to pay for it all though… But that's not important right now. It's not. I'm getting married tomorrow, that's what's important. I'm finally going to have that family I've always dreamed about. I'm going to be the man I've always wanted to be, live the life I've always wanted to live… How could that not make me happy? It will. _Of course _it will.

'Beer?'

I look up and see a girl I don't recognise hold out a bottle of beer to me with a smile.

'What? Oh, no thank you. I don't drink'.

The girl shrugs.

'All right darling, but don't you want to have a little toast to the New Year? It's almost midnight you know,' she says.

I check my watch and am startled to find it's only 5 minutes till midnight.

'Thanks, I didn't realise. I think there's some coke in the kitchen, I'll run and get some,' I call back over my shoulder as I head toward the kitchen.

I can't believe it. Only 5… no wait, 4 more minutes until my life begins. My _real_ life. My _married_ life. I can't wait. My life has felt a bit… bland lately. Since Christian left… But that is all about to change. Everything is about to become so much better. I can just see us now, me and Amira and hopefully a little baby quite soon. We'd make such a lovely picture together, I just know it. A picture of a perfect little family…

I check my watch again. Fuck, only a couple of seconds to go! I quickly poor myself a drink and shout for them to wait for me. I can already hear the countdown, when I suddenly sense someone walk into the kitchen. Even before I look up, I know… It's him. Christian. The sight of him hits me like a kick in the guts. I've not even _begun_ to recover when he brutally sweeps me away with the kiss to end all kisses…

It's too much. Just… _too much_. The feel of his body, finally, _finally_, against mine once more. The sensation of being enveloped in his warmth, his embrace, his scent… I'm lost, so very lost, and all I can do is cling on to him for dear life.

His tongue has forced itself in my mouth, exploring it with an achingly familiar fire. A fire that seems to radiate from his very being, burning me, scorching me, warming me… All I want is more, so much _more_. I feel dizzy as I'm whirled around, helplessly clutching at him, no choice but to follow his lead.

The kiss seems to last forever yet can never last long enough. I groan as my tongue finds his, my hands snake up, toward his neck, his hair… The combination of his oh so familiar taste, his scent, his touch, are intoxicating me. I hear nothing, see nothing, am aware of nothing but him. My body, my heart, even my brain has betrayed me, all conspiring to make me surrender, make me give in. I want this, there's no denying that. I want him to hold me so tight it feels like he'll never let me go. I want him to take me away from here, take me with him, anywhere, just… anywhere, as long as we can be together… I want…

No, wait… I can't want this. I'm _not allowed_ to want this. I know I'm not. I… don't know anything anymore. I need to _think_. I need to…

With all the strength I have left, I tear myself away from him. As our lips break apart, my heart starts aching with the loss of his touch. He's like a drug and I am nothing but a needy addict, desperate for more. But I'm not going back to that, I _can't_.

'Why did you come back?' I ask, feeling broken. I was doing fine while he was away. Sort of.

For a second, he doesn't answer me. He just looks at me, with those piercing green eyes, eyes that can look right down to my soul. Wait… I can't let him do that…

I rip myself away from him and rush toward the door. But before I can make it, he's got me again. His hands are on my face as he looks at me with an intensity that is killing me. I'm _this_ close to crying. Why is he doing this to me? Why is he torturing me like this? I've _made_ my decision, why can't he just let me be?

'You look me in the eyes and you tell me that you don't love me,' he pleads.

'Why did you have to come back _now_?' I cry, shoving his hands away from me. Damn him! Damn him for making this near impossible for me.

'I tried Sy… I tried so hard. I need you. I love you. And I _know_ that you love me too,' he implores me. His hand reaches out to me yet again, this time I don't respond.

'I love my family more,' I retort coldly.

I'm about to say more but I'm suddenly interrupted by Amira's voice calling my name from right outside the kitchen door. My blood freezes at the thought of what she would have walked in on, had she been but a minute earlier. Fear hits me as I realise that part of me actually _wants_ that to happen.

'Amira, hi!' I cry out falsely, flicking my eyes back and forth between the man I love and the blurred image of the woman I'm supposed to love at the other side of the door.

'It's our last chance,' Christian says, a look of defeat already slipping into those intense eyes.

'What's up with the door?' Amira's muffled voice comes through the door.

Without thinking, I give her the first lame excuse that pops up into my head.

'I think there's a bottle top wedged underneath,' I improvise, poorly.

Christian closes his eyes, the lines of pain edged sharply on his face. I want to say something, _anything_, but what can I say? I'm getting married in the morning and nothing is going to change that. I don't want it to. But to see him suffer is the very last thing I want. He should have stayed away. Why didn't he?

Christian steps away from the door and Amira tumbles in. She greets him happily with a quick hug. As she turns to me, Christian's eyes silently plead with me one more time. He doesn't understand that I just cannot do this. Not again. Alright, so I haven't moved on quite as much as I previously thought. But I will. I _have_ to believe that I will… It appears that Christian won't give up that easily though. My words don't seem to get through, which I suspect has something to do with the way he can sense my treacherous heart. My heart that refutes all the insincere words my mouth utters. But although I might not _want_ to let him go, for him to let _me_ go, I simply have to. I _have_ to.

I look in Amira's eyes and say the words I need to say: 'I love you'. Then I lean in and press a tender kiss on her lips. There. Not my hands, not my words but my actions are what's pushing Christian away this time. I close my eyes and keep our lips locked until I hear him leave, softly closing the door behind him.

**~s~c~**

**Sorry about the long wait. You know what encourages me to update soon? That's right, lots and lots of reviews ;-) Or nagging (that's right, I'm looking at you vf *sleep*)**


	31. Chapter 31

**It's after midnight, NYE. This chapter is from Syed's POV.**

**Can I just tell everyone who reviewed my last chapter a very big THANK YOU! Special thanks to enchanted nightingale who read the whole thing in one go and reviewed every single chapter :-o. Loved it!**

**~s~c~**

The house is quiet. Outside I can still hear people talking, laughing, moving around, but here all is still. It's almost 2.00 AM and Mum and Dad will have gone to sleep ages ago. The light in the kitchen is on, but I'll bet anything it's Tamwar, not my parents. I see I'm right as I push open the kitchen door and there's the over-familiar sight of my little brother, clicking away on his laptop.

'Hey Tam. Thought that was you. Had a good night?' I ask.

He bristles.

'Er… no? What kind of question is that anyway? First Zulekha stands me up and then weird/ scary Afia turns up. Didn't you notice?' Tam asks, clearly exasperated with me.

I smile ruefully.

'Sorry. Bit distracted tonight. Lot on my mind,' I say truthfully.

Tam shrugs.

'I suppose… Big day tomorrow, isn't it…' he scowls.

'Hmmm…' I reply vaguely, as I walk over to the sink. 'Want some tea? I'm making some'.

'Yeah why not,' Tam replies absently, bending over his laptop once more.

A couple of minutes later, we're sipping at still a bit too hot tea and sharing half a packet of the fancy biscuits Mum tried (and failed) to hide from us.

'Shouldn't you be asleep right now? You'll be dead on your feet tomorrow. Amira won't be impressed'.

Sleep. Yeah right, if only. I'll be lucky to even get 5 minutes of sleep, and the rest of the time… I swallow. I'm pretty sure the thoughts and feelings I've been repressing since midnight will come crashing back and haunt me just as soon as I'm alone. I shake my head as images of a determined Christian try and niggle their way into my thoughts. No. I'm going to try and stall for as long as I possibly can. Talking to Tam is as good a distraction as any.

'Not tired,' I answer. 'Too wired I think'.

'I can imagine. Just think, this time tomorrow, you'll be a married man. In fact, this time tomorrow you'll be…' Tam stops and scrunches up his nose. '' Well… let's not go there'.

It takes me embarrassingly long to understand where he was going. Oh god. I hadn't really allowed myself to think past all the celebrations tomorrow. To think about… _after_. When it's just me and her. When… things will be expected from me…

I break out in cold sweat. My mouth is still smiling, teeth grinding with the insincerity of it, as my insides squirm in blind panic. I always knew I'd have to have sex with Amira someday, of course I did. But that was always some random day, far into the future. Not… I swallow hard. Not tomorrow night. Up till now, I've managed to avoid thinking about it thoroughly. I've convinced myself that I can do it. That I'd be ready when the time came. How could I not have realised that time is _now_?

'Syed? You ok?' Tam asks, frowning in concern.

_No_, I want to scream. _I'm not ok_. But instead I square my shoulders and force down the panic with an incredible effort.

'Of course I am. I'm getting married tomorrow. Have you _seen_ my wife to be? How could I not be happy?' I answer, trying to persuade myself as well as Tam.

Tam sulks.

'Yes thank you, I have. No need to rub it in. You don't know how lucky you are,' he says, sounding slightly miffed.

All I do is shrug. What can I say? I understand that many a man would envy me for marrying Amira, including Tam. And I _should_ feel lucky. Amira deserves nothing less. But I just don't have it in me…

**~s~c~**

Reluctantly, I drag myself up the stairs. Tam's gone up five minutes ago. I wanted to stall a bit longer, but there's no use. Wherever I go, my thoughts follow me. It turns out they can find me in the kitchen just as easily as in the privacy of my room. I don't have the energy to do anything but flop on my bed, still fully dressed. I sigh, close my eyes and don't even try to keep the irrepressible thoughts at bay.

First, there's Christian. He's always first… In the darkness I can easily recall every tiny little detail of my encounter with him tonight. I remember his mouth… How it was set in a determined line, how those lips kissed me in a way that stopped my heart and took my breath away… His eyes. The way he looked as I said those words that killed the light in them. My heart aches as I think of him, looking at me like that. I hate that I hurt him and yet I keep doing it, over and over again… His arms… God, I love every single part of him, but I think I love his arms most of all. They give me shelter, warmth, love… I shiver. I'm not ever going to feel those arms around me ever again, am I… I will have to find a way to survive, to live, without them, without him…

It takes me a while to register the tears, rolling down my cheeks unchecked. But when I do, it feels like a flood I just can't stop. Tears keep coming from I don't know where and suddenly I feel my shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs. I quickly turn on my side, curl into a tiny little ball and bury my face in the pillow to stop the anguished sobs and cries from being heard. Safe in the knowledge that no one will come in here before morning, I let go and weep, surrendering to the sobs that wrack my body...

I've never felt this heartbroken in my life. What the hell was I thinking? It was always going to be like this, wasn't it… I think a tiny part of me, somewhere buried deep inside, still held out a little hope. Foolish hope. Hope that perhaps I could be the man I was supposed to be, live the life I was supposed to live, and still be happy. _Fool_, I admonish myself. I will have the love of my family, the respect of my community, a beautiful wife by my side, and that will have to be enough. I should be happy to settle for that much.

But the truth is I'm not. Happy. I just can't bring myself to be. I'm resigned to my fate, yes. But I can't be happy about it…

I turn on my back and stare at the ceiling, feeling slightly calmer. The sobs have subsided for the most part, only leaving an occasional quivering breath and some pathetic little snuffling sounds. _Come on. Pull yourself together…_ And I do.

So… Fact: I'm getting married in the morning. That's what it is, a fact. No changing it. Getting married, _being_ married, will change several things though. _No more Christian for starters_, a soft but insistent voice whispers inside my head. I bristle and shove all thoughts of him away for now.

It will mean making Mum happy, Dad proud. Tam jealous, I add as an afterthought and roll my eyes. He'll get over it. It'll mean being safe. Safe from anyone ever suspecting that I might be… that I _am_ gay I suppose. It'll mean fitting in. Being someone to envy instead of something to despise. It means I could start my own family. Be a father. Make Mum and Dad grandparents… Yes, these same old arguments still hold true.

And still…

I groan and pull the covers over my head. One step at a time. That's the only way I'm going to survive this. Don't think about anything beyond the next step. I check the time. In about 2 hours I have to get up, shower and get changed for the wedding. I can do that. My eyes flick over to the beautiful Sherwani hanging on the door of my wardrobe, ready for tomorrow. _Well_, I consider, _at least I'll look the part. Even if I don't feel it…_

**~s~c~**

I wake at the sound of the alarm. I can't believe it, I actually managed to get some sleep after all.

Right… Let's get this over with. Let's get married. I sit up and hoist myself out of bed. I see my reflection in the mirror and flinch. God I look a mess. My hair is a dishevelled mess, my clothes messy and creased. I feel sweaty and disgusting. Lovely. Definitely time for a shower.

I bless my own foresight in setting the alarm early. No one is up yet thank God, and I can sneak into the shower undisturbed. I heave a blissful sigh as the almost too hot water cascades down my body. I start vigorously washing my body and hair, starting to feel like a new man as I get cleaner. The water feels so good… Soothing. I can't bring myself to turn the shower of yet. Just one more minute…

I love taking a shower. I know some people like to soak in a tub full of delicately fragranced bath salts and all that, but for me, nothing beats a good shower. It invigorates me, makes me feel ready to face the new day.

Unfortunately, it also reminds me of Christian. I've been in his shower more times then I've been in his bed. I shiver as goose bumps cover my skin. I always used it, sometimes with regret, before going home. Regret because I wanted to take him with me, take every little part of him with me that I could. I longed to keep his scent lingering on my skin. Keep the visible and invisible mark our lovemaking left behind with me forever. I close my eyes and lean my forehead against the cool tiles.

Other memories threaten to break the surface. Memories of me and him, sharing that same shower. But there is no way I'm letting that happen. Not today. I'm getting married today. I turn off the tab, step out of the shower and look at myself in the mirror coolly. _One step at a time_, I remind myself. Time to get dressed now. _I can do that_.

**~s~c~**

**Reviews? Why, yes please :-)**


	32. Chapter 32

**So sorry I've kept you waiting this long! I've kind of been dreading the wedding chapters... But the good news is, you're getting two new chapters in one go!**

**This one is from Syed's POV. It's the wedding and Syed just got Christian's call. Zainab knows...**

**~s~c~**

_One step at a time… One step at a time…_

I've been repeating the words like a mantra all day. And so far, it's worked well for me. So far… Take shower… tick! Get dressed… tick! Give Mum the necklace… tick! Those were the easy steps.

Meeting Christian in the caff. I thought that would be the hardest part. And it _was_ hard.

_I mean what did you even come here for anyway!_

I still cringe when I think of that question. And I have no more answers now then I did then.

_Because I miss you… And because I wanted to see you… Because I hoped you'd say it was all ok._

All true. All of it's true… Pathetic isn't it? What was I thinking agreeing to go see him? How in the world could I have thought that that would make _any_ of this better, easier, less… devastating?

I smile as someone puts flowers round my neck. I have no idea who I'm smiling at. I just know that's what I'm supposed to do. I'm a man, on his way to be married. That's what you do isn't it? I watch how Mum gets her flowers as well. I see the way she looks at me. Oh God, this _can't_ be happening. It can't, but it is. So I fix my smile firmly in place and walk on.

Did I push Christian too far? Did I push him into this? Was this my fault? Should I have… But what else could I have done? Mum said he was crying afterwards. God Mum… what on earth am I going to do now? What _can_ I do? God, I don't want to be here… I don't want to do this…

He was crying… I know he was. And what did I do? I got on that damned horse, that's what I did. I thought I'd resolved things. Ha! I told him I was gay. Told him… that I loved him... I thought that would be enough. I really did. God, I'm such an idiot! How can it be enough, when it isn't even anywhere _near_ enough for _me_? When I know it'll be torture every time I see him, hear his voice, his laugh, and know he can never be mine again? Not that he ever was… And now… What's going to happen now? I don't think I can bare it, I really don't…

When all is said and done, at least I can take comfort in knowing that in the end, it was _my_ choice. Christian… he doesn't even have that. _I_ took that away from him. Me. Does he blame me for that? Is he angry? Is that why he's done this? Out of spite?

But then I remember the way he looked at me, out on the square. No. It's not anger. Not now. And it doesn't matter, not any more. It is the way it is, and I have no choice but to deal with it. I'll have to figure out a way to do that.

I'm stopped by Zuleka and that Afia girl, ordering me to pay the price to come in. As I play my part in this little ritual, I keep hearing his words over and over again in my head.

_I've told her everything. I'm so sorry Sy…_

Told her _what_? What is everything? Can I deny it? Him? Will I be able to bluff my way out of this? Can I salvage this wedding? _My_ wedding? Do I… Do I even want to?

The girls let me through. So I do what is expected of me and walk on. Smiling. Of course smiling, always smiling... I nod and smile as rose petals are being thrown at me. Mum and Dad are right behind me. Dad… I hadn't even thought of him… What if… What if she tells him? Oh God… I can't let that happen! She hasn't told him yet, I'd know it if she had. I have to talk to her, that's all I can think about.

As soon as I see that Dad is distracted, talking to Tam, I corner Mum.

'Mum, can we talk please?' I ask. I try and sound calm. This is not over yet. It's not. I won't let it be.

'Just smile,' she replies, grabbing my arm.

God her smile looks fake. Too… toothy. Does mine look like that?

We slip into a small, deserted room. My heart is beating so loud it would probably be heard over the drummers we had earlier. Mum rips the flowers from her neck and asks me the question I've been dreading for what feels like hours.

'Is it true?'

I take a few quick breaths, trying to steady myself, calm down my racing heart.

'Is what true?' I stall.

I search her face for clues. What does she know? What exactly has Christian told her? And does she believe any of it?

'Don't toy with me Syed. I saw your face when I got out of the car. He must have rung you'.

I almost cringe as I see how angry she is. Is that anger directed at me or at Christian? God, I wish I could read her mind right now…

'Who?' I ask.

I want to kick myself. But all I can think to do is stall. Feel her out. See what I can salvage, if anything.

'Christian', she spits out.

The look on her face as she says his name shatters me. Any hope, irrational hope, that maybe, _maybe_, Mum loved me enough to… But no, this is a look filled with not only anger and hate, but also dripping with disgust. It actually hurts me, physically hurts me to have her look at me like that while she speaks his name. I swallow.

'I-I don't know what he's told you,' I answer, looking away for a moment. I can't bare the intensity of that look. I can't _breathe_, I can't…

She talks on, so calmly now. Asks me straight out if I'm a homosexual. She almost chokes on the word. I can see how she feels about it, how she would feel if I confirmed…

So of course I lie. I'm not sure I'm capable of doing anything else where my parents are concerned. About this at least. And she seems to believe me. Yes, I think she does… I feel my heart flutter as hope springs up, hope that I can get out of this still, have her be proud of me, love me, not reject me...

I agree with her that Christian must have lied. Though I do admit that I've been tempted. I want to leave it at that. I plead silently that she'll let me. That she'll smile at me and allow this wedding to go on. Because that's what I want. Isn't it?

But she goes on and on about him, about Christian, and I can't stand it. I can't stand her laying into him like that, saying how sick he is and how he's delusional because he thinks he loves me, and I…

'Don't talk about him like that!' I blurt out.

Oh God… Oh God oh God oh God… What have I done? What did I say? Oh, no no no no, please tell me this isn't happening, please, please…

She looks at me… Oh God she looks at me and I can _tell_ the moment the truth hits her. And I can't take it back. I can never take it back. It's too late, too late…

'Syed…'

Her voice is full of pain, disbelief, grief…

This is it. The point of no return. The moment of truth and all that. So I just say it.

'I'm gay, Mum. I'm gay and I love him'.

Mum turns away from me, crying, looking devastated. I can feel my own tears running down my cheeks. What now? What do I do now?

**~s~c~**

'I now pronounce you man and wife, and may Allah rain down blessings on you and your families'.

Well… That's it. I'm married now. Mum knows I'm gay, she knows I love Christian, but still, I'm married now. This is all feeling a bit surreal to me. People clap and cheer, Dad hugs me… He almost never hugs me… I'll bet he wouldn't be hugging me now, if…

I look over at Mum. She looks, I don't know… Happy I think. Tearful, worried, but happy. As she should be. She's the one who told me to marry Amira. Mary her anyway. Despite of… I told her I didn't know what to do, asked her to help me. Asked her if she could still love me if…

She never answered me. Just told me to marry Amira. That's when I knew I'd been fooling myself. I've always known that my parents finding out that I was gay would mean they'd reject me. But still… But still I guess I didn't really believe it. Mum especially. I mean, she welcomed me back into the family, defying Dad, not even giving up on me when she found out I took that money. And she's my Mum, right? So I guess I thought, that maybe…

I guess I know different now. It's no use feeling bitter, it's no use feeling regret. I made my choice and all I can hope for is that, if I never… if I just stay with Amira, be a husband to her, a father to her children, that some day she may not be ashamed of me any more. That she'll be proud of me again. I'm not sure if I'm deluding myself, not sure of _anything_ right now, but I'm going to have to try. Try harder. I push down hard as my doubts threaten to resurface, reminding me that I _have_ tried, it's not _possible_ to try any harder. I can't think about that now. Just as I can't think about…

Christian. I'd lost track of him for a moment when people stood up to applaud. But now I see him, standing there, looking so very hurt. I'm sorry, I am, but this _had to_ happen. I've accepted it and he needs to accept it too.

I can't believe he walked in at the last minute like that. I know I asked him to be there, I did, but God that made it difficult… I thought I was resigned, resolved to go through with the wedding, but I can't deny he made me waver… I look away. Perhaps I should be able to deal with his pain along with mine, perhaps I deserve that, but I feel that I can't.

I asked him to tell me that everything would be ok. In the caff. That even though I would be married to Amira, it'd still be ok. But he refused. I don't know why it was so important for me to hear those words from him. I guess it's childish really. And useless… Useless because, of course it's not going to be ok. I don't know if anything ever will be. I'm supposed to be a good husband to Amira now, and I have no idea how to do that.

All I know how to do, is smile and pretend. So that's what I do. I play the part of the happy newlywed, the proud husband, the obedient and loving son. I play the part that is my life now. I smile at the guests, talk to them, let them congratulate me and smile some more.

**~s~c~**

**Right, on to the next...**


	33. Chapter 33

**Note: Make sure you've read the previous chapter before you read this one. I'm posting two new chapters in one go and this is the second one.**

**It's still the wedding, Christian's POV this time. **

**~c~s~**

Why? Why did I do this to myself? Did I really think I could stop him? That he'd choose me? What on earth gave me that idea… I want to find the nearest wall and thump my head against it repeatedly in frustration. But that would draw a lot of unwanted attention to me. That's the last thing I need. People looking at me. Asking me what's wrong…

Syed is married. It hasn't quite sunk in yet.

I was so angry last night. And then today as well, when Zainab came to see me and accused me of being perverted and I… I told her. I shouldn't have done that. I really shouldn't have. It wasn't my place to tell. Yes, I think Syed should have told her, his Dad, Amira, everyone. But I know it had to be his decision. I just… couldn't take it anymore.

So now Zainab knows. That makes three, Lucy, Jane, Zainab… I was sure that would be enough to stop the wedding. What a fool I was…

All this time, I never listened to him. To Syed. He told me, told me over and over again what it would be like. That his parents, his friends, his mosque, could _never_ accept that he was gay. Or at least not accept him acting on it. I guess it's ok to love men, love me, just as long as he doesn't act on it… He told me, but I was arrogant enough to think I knew better.

They are so good at fooling people… I knew Syed was, but now I can see Zainab at work too. If I didn't know what happened, if _I_ wasn't the one to tell her that this marriage is a sham, will always be a sham, because her precious son is gay… I would never have been able to tell.

They look so beautiful together. All of them do. And Syed… My heart aches with his beauty. He's so familiar to me, so close, so precious, but right now he looks like a beautiful, exotic stranger. A beautiful stranger with his equally beautiful wife. I can't believe this is the same man I've held in my arms countless times, the same man I've made love to, whose body I've worshipped, who's looked at me with so much desire, passion, love…

Fuck, I can't bear this! My beautiful Sy… I know I'm being pathetic, staying here, waiting for those brief moments in which our eyes meet. Waiting for them and fearing them at the same time. Every look cuts into me, but to not have him look at me is not an option.

I mean, this is it. After this, I'm going to have to move on aren't I… I'll have to let him go, _need_ to let him go.

The party around me passes me by in a big blur of colour and music. Everyone's so happy, so cheerful, it's sickening. At the moment I'm suffering through dinner, pushing the food around on my plate, unable to actually eat anything. I'm stuck with that Minty and Manda, both of them trying to suck me into their insipid conversation. I don't know what I'm still doing here…. What the fuck am I still doing here? He's married, it's _over_, time to say goodbye Christian. You've lost. Face it.

'Mind if we have a quick chat?'

Zainab. Without a word, I get up, put on my jacket and follow her. Might as well face her now.

She does what I'm expecting her to do. Says what I was expecting her to say. Why did I come? I tell her the truth. I tell her I had to see it for myself…

Then she asks me to leave. And I do. Because really, I've done what I came here for. There's nothing left here for me. I've been waiting for my cue to leave and I guess this one's as good as any.

I start heading towards the exit. I feel like I'm in a daze, just walking on as I hear someone call my name, twice. The second time, I recognise the voice as Jane's and feel forced to turn around. Is she going take this opportunity to say "I told you so"? Honestly, I don't care. I think I might be numb by now.

She doesn't say anything. She just looks at me with such… _pity_, that I want to shrink within myself. Then she hugs me and I crumble. Honestly, I don't know where these tears keep coming from. I mean, I've shed so many already today, you'd think they would have run out before now. Apparently not. I allow myself to let go for a moment, squeeze her tight.

'I have to go now,' I tell her.

She nods silently.

I give her a quick kiss and squeeze her hand.

'Thank you,' I whisper.

She wipes a tear away from her eyes and gives me a smile. I hold my hand up in a silent salute and turn away. I walk toward the reception area where I deposited my luggage earlier.

My luggage… What will I do? Should I leave London? England? I'm sure it would be easier in a lot of ways to turn my back on Walford and just go. But I'm not sure I'm ready to do that…

I thank the man that hands me my bag and try and smile. Alright Christian. This is it. Time to go.

And then he's there. Syed. I think somewhere deep down I knew he'd come. Or I just hoped he would… God he's beautiful, my hands _ache_ to touch him.

'They stole my shoe,' he says. 'It's an Asian thing'.

I nod, feeling more tears stream down my cheeks.

When he speaks again, his voice sounds so soft, broken, pleading even.

'I'm so sorry'.

'Don't be,' I interrupt him.

'Christian I…'

And suddenly I know just what to say. There's only one thing I _can_ say now. Only one more thing I can do for him. For my Sy. For the man I love so very very much.

'It's ok. It's all ok…'

I step forward and tentatively place my hands on his cheeks. I can't stop crying, sobbing even. I bend his head, his beautiful head, and place a gentle, kiss on his forehead, lingering perhaps a bit longer than necessary because I'm not ready to let him go yet. I end the kiss, letting my hands slip down to his chest and look at him one more time. Then I do the impossible, I walk away…

**~c~s~**

More tears… God, will they ever stop? In the privacy of my own flat, I let them run unchecked.

As soon as I closed the door behind me, I collapsed. I'm sitting on the cold floor now, my back against the door, hugging my knees, feeling utterly miserable and alone.

Everywhere I look I see him. When I look at the sofa, I see how he flirted with me, how we talked for hours that night… The table, how he laughed at me, made fun of me. I smile through my tears at the memory.

The bed… Every few minutes my eyes are drawn to it. So many memories and yet they'll never be enough… I shiver as I remember the feel of his naked skin against mine. The way he looked at me when he was about to come, like I was the world to him, everything he would ever need. I remember the way his hair looked, spread out on my pillow. I remember those soft lips, how they could curve into a smile and how soft and inviting they looked when he was asleep in my arms. I remember… I remember it all.

I remember those sheets, they were on the bed that time he surprised me. I'll have to get rid of those… But then I'd have to get rid of everything. And that would be too much.

I keep opening my eyes, keep looking round, almost _searching_ for another memory. It's killing me, but I can't seem to make myself stop. It's like picking a scab, you know you shouldn't, it'll hurt, it might start to bleed again, it might leave a scar, but you just can't help yourself.

Everything feels wrong right now. It's wrong that I'm even here, but I can't not be. I've done all I could for Syed. He's going to have to handle the rest of it alone. And me… I'll have to start picking up the pieces that are left of my life soon. I'll have to move on. _But not yet_, I decide. Tonight, I can crumble. I'm _allowed_ to. It's ok to cry, to grieve, to wallow in self pity even. Just for tonight, that's ok. So I let my head fall on my knees, close my eyes and give in to the pain.

**~c~s~**

**I know, I know, I'm sorry *cries***

**Now I really don't want to see the wedding episode again for a long, loooong time *snifs***

**Still love reviews though :-)**


	34. Chapter 34

**It's late for my one year anniversary of BTTB, but here it is at last. It's the night of the wedding, Syed's POV. One year since I started it, can you believe it :-o**

**~s~c~**

This is bad. Really bad. How in the world did I ever imagine I would be able to do this? She looks beautiful, so beautiful, like the princess I always tell her she is. And even though I rode on the back of a white horse today, I am anything but her prince.

I look away from her, into the darkness, as the taxi drives us to the hotel. At least we're out of that ridiculous carriage now, displayed like the picture of bloody newly wedded bliss. It feels so wrong, so… _not me_, that it constricts my heart to realise that to her, that's what we_ are_. It's not just the world that looks at us and sees the perfect couple, Amira sees us that way too. Because I let her. I encouraged her to do so. I encouraged _myself_ to do so.

But in the end, I find that I can't. Not even in the abstract sense of how good we look together. I've seen our reflection and admired the picture we make today, a proud groom and his beautiful bride. I recognise it as something that makes sense, is accepted, expected even. But it has nothing to do with _me_.

And yet here I am._ I_ am that man that just married Amira. Amira, my wife... I am the one that will have to share her bed tonight and share it for the rest of our lives. I understood that reality as an abstract fact, but I find the practice of that theory utterly unbearable. No longer can I think of "One step at a time" as a mantra to get myself through this hellish day. Because I know what the next step will be, _has to be_. And I can say with absolute certainty, that I cannot take it.

Amira is chattering to our driver. She's gushing about the wedding, the ceremony, the amount of guests, how everyone admired and complimented her, the many presents… I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She looks happy, exhilarated even, and is obviously relishing the chance to talk about her big day. She catches me looking at her and gives me brilliant smile.

'It _was_ fantastic, wasn't it?' she asks me warmly.

'Hmmm,' I reply vaguely.

Apparently it is all that is needed, because she turns back to the chauffeur and starts telling him about our trip to the Maldives tomorrow. I have to hand it to him, he gives her all the attention she wants and that I am unable to give her. I understand that I'll have to deal with this, with her, and soon, but for now I gratefully turn away and sink deeper into my own thoughts.

My thoughts go where they always go given half a chance. To Christian. I've been in love with him for months now, have looked up to him, lusted after him for even longer than that. But today he stole my heart in a way that I will never recover from. And he did it by being strong enough, by loving me enough, to let me go.

I can't help but smile at the bitter irony even as I feel unshed tears sting my eyes. He has given me the opportunity to move on, make a go of this life I've chosen for myself, even though it shattered him to do so. In doing that, he has bound me to him more effectively than ever before. How can I help but admire, worship and love a man who could do that?

I shiver and squeeze my eyes shut in an effort to hold back the tears. My hand has reached without my noticing and is touching the spot on my forehead where he kissed me goodbye. I stop and lower my hand. No time for that. Slowly, I force myself to come back and focus on my wife. She feels my stare and faces me.

'We're almost there,' she says. 'Look, I can already see the hotel. It's impressive isn't it?'

She looks at the sleek, modern white building with admiration.

'Very nice,' I agree.

I clear my throat as I hear how hoarse I sound. She gives me a questioning look, but is quickly distracted by the sight of the luxurious hotel we'll be staying at tonight. It's near Heathrow airport, which is convenient as our flight leaves early tomorrow.

When the taxi pulls up the drive, I dash out to help Amira with her dress. She's still wearing her elaborate wedding dress, which makes getting out of a car without tripping quite tricky. We step into the lobby as the driver helps us with our luggage. The décor is all white marble and red velvet and Amira loves it all. Glad that she's distracted, I go and check us in.

I linger as much as I can. I ask the receptionist lame questions, like whether she is sure the room is non-smoking and if we can count on an early wake-up call so we won't miss our flight. I know Mum has already arranged everything, she's told me so many times, but all I can think to do is stall. The receptionist, Linda according to her nametag, answers them all patiently. All I'm doing is putting off the inevitable, but I can't help it.

In the elevator I "accidentally" press the wrong button, twice. I stop at the wrong door, supposedly only working out after several tries why the door isn't opening. When I try the right door I fumble with the key card, dropping it, holding it upside down or too far away from the sensor, taking at least 5 minutes to actually open it. Amira rolls her eyes at me, but smiles indulgently. I know she thinks I'm nervous, anxious for us to be together for the first time. If only she knew…

As the door swings open, Amira looks at me expectantly. Fuck. She's waiting for me to carry her over the threshold. Compared to what else she's expecting me to do, that shouldn't be a big deal. But even that would feel too… intimate. God, this is going to be impossible, isn't it…

'Come on,' I say instead, holding out my hand to her.

She looks disappointed, but takes my hand nonetheless. Once inside the room, I start loudly admiring its features, the flat screen TV, the huge tub, the king-sized bed, claiming we must make the most of everything as we're only staying the one night. I insist on running her a bath, tell that she should relax and soak in it for at least an hour.

'But Syed, don't you want to join me?' she asks hopefully.

'No, no, don't worry about me! This should be all about you,' I lie smoothly. 'I'll just watch some TV and wait for you to come out'.

Ugh, I disgust myself sometimes. But all I know is that I need to get her away from me for a bit so I can _breathe_.

'Oh…' she says, looking slightly disappointed. 'Alright. But you'll have to help me out of my dress first'. She smiles coyly and then turns her back so I can help her.

She's right. She'd never have been able to get out of this dress on her own. It has a ridiculous amount of small hooks and tiny buttons and it takes me forever to open them all. While I'm working on the dress, Amira slips out of her shoes and detaches the veil from her hair. I wince as I see how tightly her hair is bound, sure it must be extremely uncomfortable. I marvel at the weight of the dress as I help her step out of it and carefully place it on a chair.

I step back and make myself look at my wife. She's standing before me in nothing but a silk slip dress and stockings. I can admire her beauty in a remote kind of way. I feel detached as I let my eyes slide over her soft curves and now unbound hair. Yes, she's beautiful. This shouldn't be as hard as it is. But the minute I allow myself to step into the moment, to be here in the room with her, to imagine touching her, my stomach turns. I grimace, trying to disguise the look of disgust in a wide yawn.

'Sorry, long day', I apologise.

Obviously not the reaction she was hoping for. Not giving up, she slips her hands down and grips the hem of her silk dress and lifts it over her head in a quick, fluent movement. She looks at me with eyes full of excitement, insecurity and anxious anticipation.

'You're very beautiful,' I say truthfully. And she is. She's wearing silk lingerie, in the same colours as her dress. I feel incredibly guilty because I know I should feel like the luckiest man in the world right now instead of the most miserable one.

She smiles and steps forward and I instinctively recoil. I flush, covering up my embarrassment by stepping past her, into the bathroom.

'I think you're bath is ready,' I call over my shoulder. 'I'll just check the temperature again… Yep, it's lovely. Come on in'.

Amira follows me in and looks at the bath.

'I do love a bath,' she sighs. 'When we get our own place, we simply _must_ get a bath, don't you think? I can't wait!'

'Me too,' I lie, smiling easily. My smile stiffens as she reaches back to unhook her bra.

'Right, I'll leave you to it then,' I mutter, walking out as fast as my feet can carry me. I can hear her try and say something but I quickly close the door behind me. I move away from the door and wait anxiously, watching to see if it'll open again.

It doesn't. When I hear the soft splashing of water, I heave a sigh of relief. I've bought myself some more time. Knowing Amira and the kind of woman she is, she won't come out for at least an hour or so.

I spend that hour pacing restlessly through the room, taking my clothes off, putting them back on only to undress again. I flop onto the bed, on top of the sheets, crawl under them, push them off again. My restlessness is driving me crazy.

I think about Christian, about what he's doing right now. Is he out clubbing, trying to forget about me? Is he in some stranger's bed already, burying himself in a willing body to stop himself thinking about me?

Unable to lay still, my restless thoughts pushing my equally restless body into action, I get up and start pacing yet again. I want to slide open a window but the room is climate-controlled and the bloody windows won't open. I try and steady myself by pressing my cheek against the cool glass, trying to calm myself, still my frantic thoughts.

I jump as I hear the sloshing of water and panic at the thought of Amira coming back into the room. I do the only thing I can think off. I rush to the bed, climb into it wearing nothing but my pants and turn on my side facing away from the bathroom door. My heart races as I listen for sounds coming out of the bathroom.

It takes at least fifteen minutes for her to finally come out. As I hear the door open, I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to take slow, steady breaths. I can hear her hesitate halfway to the bed.

'Syed…' she calls softly.

I don't respond. I keep completely still and hope and pray that she'll fall for it.

'Syed? Are you asleep?' she asks, her voice edged with a hint of hurt.

A feeling of guilt rushes me. I hear her walk to my side of the bed. My heart speeds up and I have to fight to keep my breathing under control.

'Syed?'

She waits, but when I don't respond, she puts a hand on my shoulder and shakes me softly.

I mumble something, trying to sound sleepy and turn away from her.

'I… Syed, come on, you can't be asleep. Please wake up,' she pleads. He voice is full of hurt now, tinged with anger and disappointment.

_I'm sorry_, I think. _I'm so sorry_. But not sorry enough to stop pretending. All I know is that "not yet" is so much better than "right now". So I keep lying there, unmoving, holding my breath as I feel her slip in beside me.

'Night my husband,' she whispers. 'It's alright. We have plenty of time. All of the honeymoon and for the rest of our lives'.

I can hear the soft smile in her voice as she says the words that still my heart. She's right. I can't put this off forever. But I can put it off for now.

**~s~c~**

**I've had such lovely reviews lately *hugs reviews* :-) **

**But I'm greedy and always want more!**


	35. Chapter 35

**This chapter is from Syed's POV. Hope you enjoy!**

**xxx**

_He sets me on fire. I have no other words to describe what it is he does to me. His hands burn a fiery trail on my skin and I arch up to meet them, like a flower turning toward the sun. He _is_ my sun, the one my world turns around, or at least he is when I'm with him like this, in his bed. His stubble grazes my heated skin as he rubs his cheek on my flank and I can't help but shiver in delight. _

_Rivulets of sweat run down my chest, my back, my legs, but they do nothing to cool my feverish skin. I've become the flame and his touches are what keep me alive. _

_He's using his tongue now, lapping at my skin in long, sensuous strokes. He licks his way up my legs, eliciting multiple gasps as he reaches higher and higher and… oh god… The pleasure surging through my body is so intense that it is actually painful. I am one big bundle of _need_, so much need, for his hands, his tongue, his mouth, for him…_

'_Christian…' _

_The name escapes me in a sob. The salty moistness on my cheeks might be sweat or tears or a mixture of both. It doesn't matter. All that matters is the flame that burns us, consuming everything in its path. I am so hot right now, yet I still try and get nearer to the heat that is radiating from Christian's body. All I want, all I _need_ is more._

_Impatient, I push him off of me and roll with him so I land on top of him. He lets himself be rolled on his back, looking at me with piercing eyes and his lips curled up slightly in an indulgent smile. I lean into him and take his lips in a heated kiss. Our tongues slide, swipe and curl together like in a torrid dance and I feel myself harden even further. I wriggle down a bit so I can feel his erection pressed up against mine and I heave a small, contented sigh. Christian uses my temporary distraction to change our kiss, pushing his tongue into my mouth this time and quickly taking over. A small sound of protest is all I can make before I'm pinned underneath him again with my arms flung over my head. _

_I would object to the thwarting of my plans, except I see no reason to. Why would I, when he kisses me like that? When his calloused hands send shivers of pleasure through me as they rake all over my body? When his cock slides up and down against mine, causing a delicious friction? No, I have no objection to this. None at all._

_He takes his mouth from mine and I whine in disappointment. I can feel him smile against my cheek and I sigh as he starts a trail of wet kisses down my neck and along my collarbone. I yelp in protest as he nips at my collarbone, but hum contentedly as he soothes the bite mark with a soft kiss and a swipe of his tongue. He buries his head in the crook of my neck and whispers my name over and over again._

'_Sy… My beautiful, beautiful Sy…'_

_The words are repeated, sometimes clear, sometimes more like incoherent sounds. He sniffs me and sighs, sounding so pleased with himself, so pleased with _me_, that my toes curl with pleasure and I thrust my hips up to brush my cock against his urgently. It startles him, like he'd forgotten what we were doing for a moment, but then he lifts his head and looks at me with a lazy smile, making my heart thump loudly._

_His eyes never straying from mine, he scrambles up onto his knees and nestles himself between my spread thighs. He takes hold of my legs and pulls me closer. I look up at him unblinking, giving him the full force of the naked desire I know is reflected in my eyes. He swallows and looks at me with something close to reverence. I give him a wicked smile and push my arse up against his groin, urging him to get a move on. His movements become frenzied now, rushing through his preparations with no more than his fingers and a little spit. I don't care._

'_Hurry up,' I pant, pushing myself on his fingers shamelessly. _

_His delighted laugh startles me for a moment before I throw my head back and laugh with him._

'_Get a move on,' I urge him teasingly._

_He leans down and kisses me slowly. Pulling back, he smiles at me and says: 'As you wish gorgeous'. _

_He looks at me like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. I stare at him in wonderment until my thoughts are disrupted by his cock, slowly sliding inside me. I hiss my breath at the initial pain, but it quickly subsides as it always does and I relax. _

_Christian holds still for only a moment before he starts moving back and forth. Before long, he is pounding into me and I am uttering incoherent sounds of encouragement._

'_Yes, God yes, please just… Yes, right there and… oh god, faster, please… Christian please…'_

_His answer comes in a stream of incomprehensible words of his own._

'_Sy… you're so… love you, love you so much… Beautiful, so beautiful… Need you, have to…'_

_The words don't make a lot of sense but we understand each other just the same. _

_I cry out as he hits my prostate over and over again. I'm strung so tight that I can't understand how I'm holding on still. My hands touch every part of him I can reach, his hips, his arse, his thighs… So close, god I'm so close…_

**xxx**

'Syed? Syed babe, wake up please, you're scaring me! Are you alright?'

The voice comes as if from far away but still manages to intrude into my private world, making me resent it before I recognise it fully. Amira. All of a sudden the last traces of my dream are ripped away from me as I realise where I am and who is lying next to me in this miserable excuse for a honeymoon suite.

'I'm fine. Just… bad dreams,' I mumble truthfully. Well, sort of.

She looks at me with a concerned frown. I shift discreetly to hide my erection beneath the flimsy white sheet.

'Are you feeling sick again?' she asks. 'You look awful. That stomach bug has really done a number on you hasn't it'.

Only a tiny flash of guilt hits me before it is flushed away with a gulf of relief as I seize the perfect excuse.

'Yes, it's horrible,' I agree, trying to sound miserable.

'Poor darling,' she says. 'You look absolutely terrible. All hot and sweaty. Do you have a fever?'

She reaches out a hand to lay on my cheek, but I quickly move away from her.

'Sorry, bathroom…' I mumble.

I get up carefully, picking up the robe that is lying on the floor next to the bed to cover myself from her eyes.

'Are you going to be sick again?' she calls after me. 'Perhaps you should take a shower. You know, cool down a bit'.

I give her a noncommittal sound as an answer and quickly lock the bathroom door behind me. The first thing I do is turn on the shower, the cascading water immediately drowning out any sound coming through the bathroom door. My eyes avoid the mirror as I flush the toilet to complete my cover story and then take off my robe and pants and step into the large shower.

Water pummels down at me from several directions. _Ridiculously fancy shower_, I think, shaking my head. I shiver as the warm water makes contact with my skin that is still so heated that the water feels cool in comparison. Flashes of my dream come back to me and I groan as I remember the feel of his hands all over me, his tongue, his lips… Without conscious thought, my hand has wrapped itself around my throbbing cock and is leisurely moving up and down the shaft. I'm still so hard from my dreams that I need but a few careful strokes to come spectacularly, splattering white fluid all over the slate tiles. I bite my hand to stifle a cry and watch while the water washes all evidence of my treason away.

Now that the heat and urgency has gone, I feel deflated. Is this going to be the rest of my life? Making excuses to my wife as I dream of someone else? God, why does my life have to be so complicated? Why can't I look at my beautiful wife and be happy? Why can't I _make_ myself hold her, touch her…

I can't even finish that thought without feeling the bile rise up in my throat. I felt sick with relief last night, stepping into bed with her, knowing we'd be going home today and I'd managed to survive our honeymoon without sharing more than a few pecks and a couple of quick hugs. That supposed stomach bug has been a godsend, I wonder how long I can make it last once we're back in England… _Not long_, I realise. I'm only postponing the inevitable and I know it.

I'm pretty sure Amira suspects that something else is wrong. Of course she does, though she hasn't said anything. Not yet… She looks at me with eyes full of hurt and insecurity at times, a look that makes me cringe like the coward I am.

The honeymoon has been a nightmare. I managed to avoid catastrophe as the hotel manager tried to put us in one of those honeymoon cabins at the beach. I almost started to hyperventilate, thinking about what it would be like to be isolated like that, just me and her, with nothing to do but eat, sleep, lay in the sun and… not have sex. It would have driven me insane. I absolutely refused, concocting some tsunami phobia story and demanding a room in the main building.

It was one in a row of many disappointments for Amira. Of course I managed to talk her round, using this very bathroom as one of my most convincing arguments. The cabin had only sparse furniture and a plain bathroom. This room, though nothing special, at least has a luxurious bathroom.

And now we'll be going home in a couple of hours. We'll be living in Mum's house, with Mum knowing what she knows… I don't think I'll be able to stand it. We've talked on the phone briefly a couple of times, but mostly she just asks to speak to Amira. I can hear the forced cheerfulness in her voice, stronger even when Dad is standing beside her.

Neither one of them has mentioned Christian. But from a text from Tam, I know he's still there. He told me Christian has quit and I couldn't help but feel relieved. Having to see him every day, knowing what we've shared in that place… And what we'll never share again. The thought hits me like a blast to the chest. I bend double, feeling like I'm choking.

My knees buckle beneath me and I let myself slide down to the cool floor. Why does it get to me, every single time? I _know_ I'll never be able to be with him again, I _know_ that. I've known that for a long time. Yet every time I remember that, it hits me as hard as it did the first time. How am I going to do this? My life is such a mess… What am I going to do? What _can_ I do?

Ten minutes later I've dried myself off and quietly sneak back into the bedroom. Amira's drifting in and out of sleep, mumbling something about if I'm feeling any better, before drifting away again. I take one look at my side of the bed, the sheets all crumpled up and slightly damp looking, and decide to try and catch some sleep on the living room sofa instead. I check the time. Only six hours until our flight. Only six hours until I'm on my way back…

**xxx**

**Please review :-)**


	36. Chapter 36

** This is from Christian's POV. It's the day Syed comes back from his honymoon. Remember Leyton? Yeah... *rollseyes* **

**~c~s~**

'Peep-o!'

Bugger. Having been caught out, I have no choice but to get up from my hiding place behind the bar and face the music.

'Leyton,' I say. 'What are you doing here?'

'What do you mean am I doing here? Coming to see you of course. Now give me a kiss silly,' Leyton says. He leans in over the bar and puckers his lips to underline his demand for a kiss.

'You know what, I'd rather not,' I say, looking at him coolly. Bloody hell, why doesn't he just take the fucking hint and sod off?

'Ooooh, that's not what you said last night now was it!' Leyton says with a chuckle. He turns to Chelsea while continuing: 'Snuggled up to me like a big giant cat he was, purring even. He's so big and muscly and all that, but underneath he's just adorable isn't he?'

He looks at me with big gooey eyes and I just want to slap him. I've _told_ him it was just a one off, I've _told_ him I don't fancy him, hell, don't even _like_ him, but he just doesn't seem to actually hear me.

'Look,' I say, interrupting him before he can tell anyone any other little embarrassing details, 'can't you see I'm kind of busy here? I don't have time to talk right now, alright? Besides, I've said all I wanted to say. Now just… find some other bloke to harass yeah?'

The smile never wavers. Does he not _hear_ me when I say these things?

'Never mind gorgeous. I'll just hang around here for a while, chatting to your friends until you're done for the night. Fancy going for a curry later? I just love Indian food, I do. Sweet and spicy, just like you'.

He gives me a big wink and starts chattering on to Masood about his favourite curry. I heave a huge sigh and turn to the next customer. Perhaps if I ignore him for long enough, he'll get bored and just go away… Yeah right, fat chance of that happening any time soon!

What the hell was I thinking? Seriously? I've seen Leyton around plenty of times. He's always tried to latch on to me, but like hell I was I ever going to go there. Until last night apparently… Damn those Tequila Slammers, they're fucking lethal! When will I learn? I shake my head at my own stupidity.

I've been trying to drown out his words, trying to pretend he's not even here, when I suddenly hear: '… and he can get a bit wild, he can, let me tell you! I was almost asleep when he suddenly started groping me again, and…'

'Right, that's me done for the night,' I proclaim loudly, interrupting the horrific stream of words. 'Come on Leyton, time to say goodbye!'

I mouth a quick "sorry" to Chelsea and lead him out the pub doors as quick as I can. As soon as we're outside I try to get rid of him again.

'Look I really don't appreciate you telling Chelsea that I snore,' I say, making my annoyance clear. But of course he doesn't respond to it.

'_Purring_ I said! Like a big old cat,' he says cheerily. He links his arm with mine and prattles on: 'How about a nice bottle of wine to share over for dinner? To pay you back for letting me stay last night'.

'No!' I cry out.

But it doesn't make a blind bit of difference. He just says: 'Two ticks', pats me on the chest and runs off to get his wine.

'Look, what don't you get?' I call after him in exasperation. 'It was a one night stand!'

Ugh, I give up. Can this night get any worse?

'Syed…'

Oh no. Oh no no no no no… I know that whiny voice. And I know the man she's talking to before I look up and see them for myself.

Fuck. It's the Happy Couple. Just what I needed. I should have hidden out at the flat the minute Masood told me they'd be back sometime today. But oh no, I'd decided I'd moved on and could deal with seeing him again. With her… God I'm such a fool…

I'm one big bundle of galloping emotions. My heart is aching with happiness to see him again. After all that's happened, I still just want to run over to him and pull him into my arms, never letting go. My heart is pounding in my chest and I'm panicking.

I can hear him say something about a taxi and realise they're coming my way. I've been standing there, nailed to the floor like some fucking idiot. I have to get out of here, _now_. I turn on my heels and try and make a quick escape in the semi-darkness of the city night.

'Christian! We're back!' comes Amira's overly cheery voice.

Too late. Shit.

I turn back to face her and try to feign some cheerfulness.

'Yeah!' I say, answering her hug cautiously. 'I can see that'.

But all I really see is him. I look over her shoulder and watch... He looks… I don't know. Not happy. He's wearing jeans and the leather jacket I love so much. My eyes hungrily drink in every inch of him. God, it's been too long… He's still so beautiful… So beautiful, but not mine. Never mine…

He doesn't really look at me. He looks away as Amira babbles on about their honeymoon and how they didn't leave the room most of the time. This is like Chinese water torture and he can't even be bothered to bloody well _look at me!_. He can't get away from me quickly enough apparently. Forgotten all about me already looks like… I feel hurt and angry and want desperately to hurt him back.

'Sorry I took so long. Red or white, red or rosé, I'm hopeless'.

Fantastic. Leyton is back.

'Hello…' Amira says, eyeing him up and down speculatively.

'Hi,' Leyton says, looking at both Amira and Syed.

Hang on… That seems to have got Syed's attention. Finally, his eyes rest on me, if only for a moment. It feels strangely satisfying. I decide not to question it, but go with it instead.

'Amira,' Syed says impatiently, suddenly seeming even more anxious than before to get the hell away from me.

'Ehm… Aren't you going to introduce us?' Amira enquires.

I hesitate for only a second before saying: 'Sorry. This is… Leyton. My boyfriend'.

Those last two words I say while staring directly at Syed. _Yes_, I think. _Now how do you feel about _that _one Sy? _

He looks shocked and I revel in the sight. I vaguely know I'm going to regret this later, but right now, it feels bloody damn good.

**~c~s~**

So. Me and Leyton. Boyfriends… God, what was I thinking? Why do I keep doing these things?

Leyton is driving me insane. He's been following me around like a little puppy lost. I wish to hell that I could just tell him to bugger off already, but I can't now can I… Not after that little display I put on in front of Syed, almost a week ago now. I'll have to stick it out for a little while longer at least. So I try and avoid Leyton as much as I can, ignore him when I can't, and postpone the inevitable for just a little bit longer.

Roxy has been teasing me mercilessly all day. She knows my so-called relationship is a load of crap, but of course she has no idea why I'm playing along.

I heave a sigh of relief as I step through the Vic doors to enjoy my break and some fresh air. It's a bit nippy out, so I pull on my jacket. And then I see him.

It's the first time I've seen him since he's been back. And nothing has changed. Nothing. I still want him. I still love him. But I've made up my mind.

The last days have been horrible, and not just because of this… thing, this disaster that is my "relationship" with Leyton. It's been awful, knowing Syed was on his honeymoon. But at least I didn't have to see it. And now…

I have to let it go. Like, _really_ let it go. Let _him_ go. No more excuses. No more stalling. He's moved on, and it's time I did the same. So without another thought, I run after him.

'Hey,' I say.

He doesn't say hello. He mumbles something about getting menus. Whatever.

'I'm on a break,' I tell him. I brave myself to ask the next question. 'So honeymoon was good?'

I hold my breath as I wait for his answer.

'It was brilliant,' he says.

I cringe. That hurt.

'Really?' I can't stop myself asking.

'Yeah perfect,' he says. Just like that.

'I'm glad,' I lie.

'And you're with er…'

'Leyton,' I finish his sentence.

'Great'.

'Yeah'.

God this is awkward. I know he isn't as happy about all this as he pretends to be. I _know_ it. I know _him_. But it still hurts me to hear him say it. I quickly look around, place my hand on his back and lead him to a somewhat quieter corner of the market.

'Look, I would really like to draw a line under this whole thing,' I tell him sincerely.

'Yeah definitely,' he says. 'That was what I wanted to say'.

I nod, not quite believing him.

'Me and Amira, we really want to make our marriage work,' he continues.

'I know,' I acknowledge. And I do. Doesn't make it hurt any less though…

'And we can, I know we can. I'm really gonna… try,' he finishes lamely.

Oh God, I actually start to feel sorry for him. He looks so desperate right now. Like he's trying to convince himself instead of me. But this is the path he's chosen, and I'll just have to let him walk away. No matter how much of a mistake I think he's making… It will never work, this marriage of his, him pretending to be something he's not… But that's something he'll have to figure out by himself. Eventually.

'I wish you all the best,' I say honestly.

'Thanks,' he says, and walks away.

I spend the rest of my break walking the streets, pondering my thoughts. Alright. So I've said what I needed to say. It's over now. We're done.

I fight back tears as I feel desperation try and get its claws into me. But I won't give in. I won't. I'll get through this. I will. It's time to move on and take control of my life.

I know just what I have to do to get on the right track again. Before the night is through, I'm finally freeing myself of Leyton, once and for all.

I sigh deeply and shove my hands in my pockets. I don't know what's around the corner for me, but I'll survive. Because that's what I do. I survive. Always.

**~c~s~**

**Reviews still very much welcome :-)**


	37. Chapter 37

**This is from Syed's POV. It's the day of the "the thought of being physically initmate with her, makes me feel sick" convo. Oh happy days.**

**~s~c~**

'Amira, there's something you don't know…'

There. I've started it now. Finally. I don't care _wha_t Mum has to say, I _will_ tell Amira the truth. Right now.

'Shut up Syed,' Mum hisses at me.

How did I ever think she was going to understand? Understand _me_? She's disgusted with me, I can tell by the way she tries to avoid me, avoid being alone with me. I won't ever be allowed to count on her support, unless I start acting like the loving, obedient, _straight_ son she wants me to be. Well tough. That just isn't going to happen.

'She needs to know,' I say. I won't let her manipulate me again. I should never have gone through with the wedding at her insistence, but it's too late to do anything about that now. But this? This I can do. It is the very least that Amira deserves. That _I_ deserve.

'We'll talk about it later Pappu,' she says.

The simple words hit me like a fist to my gut. I'm in shock. How does she do that? She knows _exactly _what buttons to push, doesn't she… Right when I think it's hopeless, that she'll never…

She hasn't called me Pappu since before the wedding and we both know it. And even though I'm well aware of the fact that she's only doing it now to manipulate me… It doesn't matter. Or it does, but it still gets to me. She still said it. And if there's only the slightest bit of hope that she _will_ forgive me some day, look at me with love instead of disgust and disappointment…

I have to think about this. I have to…

'I'm going to work,' I manage, before running out the door.

I walk the streets, not seeing or hearing anything that goes on around me. I don't go into work just yet. I need to clear my head a bit first. My feet move as if of their own accord. I just follow along, walking with fast, urgent paces. My brain is frantically buzzing in my head, like it has been for days now. So close… I was so close just now to telling Amira. Admitting to her why I wouldn't, _couldn't_ sleep with her. My heart is still racing with the thought of it. And now that I haven't, I don't know what to do with all this nervous energy that has built up inside me.

I think I must have passed the door to the unit at least three times in my wandering before I give up and actually go in.

I numb myself with the everyday, mundane activities of chopping, cleaning, dicing… I take some pleasure in the pounding of the meat, hammering down a bit more harshly then strictly required.

I'm trying to identify what I'm feeling. I'm angry at Mum, for stopping me from spilling the truth, for manipulating me yet again. I'm frustrated with myself for wanting to believe her, for letting her have this power over me. I'm desperate because I don't know what to_ do_ now.

I can't make my marriage work, because I can't stand the idea of having to touch my own wife. There's no way I'll be able to avoid Amira for much longer. My eyes involuntarily go to the door that lead into the tiny office. Amira made her most blatant move yet there just a couple of days ago. I squirm as I think of how she was waiting for me. I know I've upset her, but I'm too messed up to really care about that. She's obviously getting impatient and why wouldn't she be? We've been married for over a month now for God's sake. And if I listen to Mum… If I don't tell Amira the truth about me, than what exactly am I going to do?

'Hi'.

I turn around before I can stop myself. I didn't hear him come in over the noise I'm making.

'Christian. What are you doing here?' I say.

In my effort to control my voice, to stifle my surprise, I think I sound a bit hostile. From the way he looks at me, he agrees.

'Jane asked me to pick up the books,' he answers.

Within a few seconds, his piercing stare becomes too much for me. I turn back to the counter and pick up the hammer again.

'You know where to find them,' I say, trying to sound indifferent.

He doesn't answer me, but I hear him make his way to the office. Different memories flash before me now. Memories of want, of heat, laughter, pleasure… I wince as I feel my nails almost pierce the skin of my hand as I clench my fist around the hammer. I quickly release the fist I didn't know I was making, lightening my grip on the hammer and hesitantly start pounding again.

If I do tell Amira the truth, then what? My heart aches as I remember that Christian won't be waiting for me. He's with that bloke now, _his boyfriend_, he called him. Mum will most certainly force me out, my Dad, God I don't even want to think about that… I'd have nothing… Not my family, not a wife, not the promise of children… And not the man I love. Or at least I don't think so…

What choice do I really have? I don't trust the gesture Mum made, don't know how far she's willing to go… But if there's a chance? Shouldn't I…

'Right, well that's me off'.

_Yes_, I think. _Go_.

'Be careful or you might lose a finger' he continues.

I sigh. Why doesn't he just leave? Go back to his… _boyfriend_.

'I know what I'm doing,' I bite back.

Well that's a lie. I have absolutely no idea what the fuck I'm doing. I need to make my mind up and for that to happen I need him to _leave_.

'Sy, I don't mean to interfere…'

'Well don't then. Go away,' I interrupt him.

Saying it aloud suddenly makes it different. As the words leave my mouth, I can feel the horrible untruth of them. I don't want him to go. In fact, that's the very opposite of what I want. I want to hide in his arms and feel his protective embrace around me. I want him to make me stop thinking. To make me forget the pressure of Mum's manipulations, Amira's expectations… Forget everything but me and him, right now, right here. Just forget…

'There's something I wanted to tell you…' he begins.

Oh God no. I can't listen to this. I don't want to hear about how he's moved on and doesn't need me anymore. Not when I…

'Not interested' I say.

_Liar_, I think. I still don't dare turn around. He knows me too well. If I give him a chance to look at me…

The tension is almost palpable. I'm not sure what to do. Christian doesn't say anything, but he doesn't appear to be leaving either.

And then my phone rings. I don't have to look at it to know who it's going to be. It's either Mum or Amira and I'm in no mood to talk to either. Especially not in front of him.

'You going to answer that?' he asks.

I want to growl with frustration. His voice is too soft, to kind, too full of understanding… I turn around and say: 'Look you don't even work here anymore. Why are you hanging around?'

'I'm not an idiot Syed. I can tell when you're upset'.

'Yeah well I don't want your pity,' I say, facing away from him once again.

'Well that's good,' he replies. 'Because it wasn't pity I was offering. How about concern'.

'That too,' I say flatly.

'I thought we were friends. Don't friends care for each other?'

I sigh. Am I supposed to believe that? I don't think so. At least my phone has stopped ringing…

'Scrap pity, insert gloating,' I say accusingly. Alright, so that might be a bit much. I know he isn't gloating. But the thought of me trapped in this impossible, miserable, hopeless situation, while he's all happy with his new _boyfriend_? No. No I don't think I can bear that.

'Who's gloating?' he asks, sounding hurt.

The twinge of guilt that I feel irritates me, but not as much as the sound of the office phone. I twist my head to look at the office. Should I answer it? I'm pretty sure it's Mum, and I _don't_ want to talk to her. But what if it's not?

'Could be a client,' Christian says.

Yes I know that, thank you. Ugh, I give up. I pull the ridiculous cap off my head and stalk into the office to answer the blasted phone.

Mum. Of course it is…

She talks to me, talks at me about having a child now. This feels surreal. I'm on the phone with my Mum, talking about starting a family, not even an hour after telling her that the thought of being physically intimate with my wife makes me feel sick. Meanwhile, Christian has followed me into the office and I can _feel_ his eyes boring a hole into my back.

'Look I know you've had a sheltered upbringing Mum, but you really should know that there are certain things you need to do before you can have a baby!' I tell her. And Christian. I tell Christian too. I pretend to myself that I'm not thinking about him when I say it, that he won't know what I mean, but it's no use. I want him to know. As to why? I don't really know.

That's it, isn't it… I just don't know any more… All I see is impossibilities. I _can't_ be the husband Amira deserves, _can't_ be the son my Mum expects me to be, but I can't be the man Christian wants me to be either. What can I do? What am I supposed to do?

Mum doesn't respond of course. She's already decided how it's going to be, and my objections are no more than a tiny inconvenience to her. Just another obstacle to overcome. She expects me to fall in line, do as she says and not to argue. And I resent her for that.

She asks me to promise to go along with her story, back her up to Amira. But I refuse. I hang up the phone and turn around to face Christian. I have to get him out of here. Before I fall apart.

What am I to do? What can I do? What…

**~s~c~**

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	38. Chapter 38

**This is from Christian's POV. It's a little bit further in time, the day after Kamil is born.**

**~c~s~**

'_I'm sorry,' he whispers against my chest._

_I smile._

'_It's ok,' I answer, softly stroking his hair. 'It's ok now'._

_He doesn't seem to hear me. Instead he just goes on, his voice an almost inaudible whisper. I can feel his lips form the words against my skin, the sensation sending a little thrill of pleasure through me._

'_I've been such an idiot. You were right. You were _so_ right. It was never going to work. I mean, what was I thinking? I'm gay and I love _you_. How on earth was I ever going to be a good husband?' _

_I keep stroking his hair soothingly, drinking in the words I've been longing to hear for such a long time. I can't believe he's here, finally, in my arms where he belongs. Where I need him to be. _

'_It doesn't matter,' I assure him. 'Not anymore. Not now that you're here'._

_And I mean it. It doesn't matter how much he's hurt me, how much we've hurt each other. He's here now and that is all that matters. All that will ever matter._

'_I love you so much,' I can't stop myself saying. Even though I've said it multiple times already tonight. Shouted it, whispered it, groaned it…_

'_Love you too,' he whispers sleepily._

_He wriggles around a bit to get more comfortable and pretty soon I can feel his weight become heavier on my chest. He's asleep. I press a kiss on the top of his head, taking the opportunity to breathe in his scent. God I've missed him. But he's here. He's here now… I can't help but smile as I feel myself drift off to sleep._

**~c~s~**

I wake up feeling happier then I've felt in months. That is, until I realise… That wasn't real. It wasn't. Syed _isn't_ here. Not with me. He's with Amira. His wife…

And me? I'm on my own. Alone… Of course I am. I knew that really. Just forgot for a moment there. Which is stupid. Painfully stupid. Or just painful…

I sigh and heave myself out of bed. Might as well get up now. Need to be at work in about an hour anyway.

A large, strong mug of coffee later, I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. Nothing has changed. Not really. It's still me. And I'm still alone.

I honestly thought I was beginning to be ok with that. Syed's married, I had to let him go and I did. So what if I've had some minor hiccups? Like trying to make him jealous by pretending to have a boyfriend, or feeling crushed when he told me he and Amira had finally done it? It's only to be expected that moving on wouldn't be all that easy. That it would take time. And effort. A lot of effort…

God, I still can't think about Syed being anywhere near Amira without feeling a possessive rage surge up inside me. _He's mine_, I want to snarl, swatting Amira's clutching claws away from Syed. _My _Syed.

I close my eyes and sigh. Alright. So perhaps I'm not as ok as I previously thought. I still want him. _Need_ him. Love him… I know that. I _do_ know that. But isn't it meant to get easier in time? God I hope so…

Impatiently, I push myself away from the sink and step into the shower. The water is still a bit cold at first, but I don't care. I need the water to wash it all away, the feelings of want and need and longing…

It does seem to help a little. I start to feel calmer, allowing the warm water to soothe me. By the end of the shower, I almost feel ready to face another day. It helps to remember that it's unlikely that I'll run into Syed or any of the Masoods today. I'm sure they'll all be way too busy fussing over the new baby to come looking for me.

I'm the first to get into work. The Vic is still dark and empty and I find I quite like that. It suits me and my mood right now. I quietly go about the preparations for the day.

I say hello to Roxy when she comes in about fifteen minutes later.

'You're early,' she comments.

'Yeah I know,' I agree. 'I've pretty much set everything up already. I'll just water the plants outside and then I'll make us some coffee. Sound good?'

She smiles gratefully.

'Thanks Christian, you're a star,' she says.

It's a bit cold out, hadn't really noticed that before. I nip back in to get my sweater before wandering back out to water the flowers. I'm trying to be careful, making sure not to spill the cold water all over myself instead of the plants like last time.

'Christian? I… I don't suppose Amira's in there?'

Syed… Well, so much for not running into him today. Looks like he's come looking for me. Or Amira I suppose… I don't know… I feel about as confused as he looks. So I decide to try and lighten the mood with a joke. And a very lame one at that.

'Driven her to drink already?' I say, trying for a smile.

For a moment he looks stricken. But he quickly recovers and says: 'A…Actually we're more in love then ever'.

I want to slap him. I honestly do. Or shake him really really hard. I don't believe a word of it, but it still hurts like hell to hear him say those words. And who's he trying to convince anyway? Me? Or himself? A little bit of both I suppose. But his words are too half-hearted to convince either one of us.

I don't say any of that. If he wants to play pretend, then I guess so can I.

'Well I'm pleased for ya,' I lie.

He should have left it at that. I would have let him walk away if he could have just left it at that. Really I would have. Probably… I suppose we'll never know now, because he keeps on talking.

'It's true what they say about marriage. Everything's the same but… different,' he says.

God Sy, what the hell are you doing? Don't you realise I know you far too well for you to lie to me like this? It's the darting eyes. That, and the fidgeting hands. God he's bloody obvious. Why is he doing this? All it does is make me angry, so angry, pushing me to make him eat his words.

'Really?' I say, moving in breathtakingly close. 'Which bit's the same?'

All I do is _breathe_ on his lips and I can feel him respond. For a moment, he just stands there, frozen, eyes transfixed on mine. I can feel the air around us almost sizzle with tension. My heart speeds up as I wonder for just a moment, if he'll…

'Look, if you see her just tell her Mum and Dad are on their way back yeah?' he says.

And then he flees.

'Ok…' I say.

Because what else _can_ I say? I heave a huge sigh and stuff my hands down my jeans pockets. This is so messed up. _I'm_ so messed up. Or we both are really.

Not yet ready to face coffee with Roxy, I linger outside for a bit.

_What are you doing Sy? What on earth are you doing_, I think over and over again. He acts like he wants us to be friends, coming to me, talking to me, leaning on me… Friends, nothing more. But how on earth is that even possible? I _love_ him for fuck's sake, and I _know_ he loves me. No matter what he says. No matter what he does.

I don't think we can ever be just friends. But at the same time, I realise I'll take what I can get. The self-loathing I feel at that realisation tastes bitter in my mouth. God I hate this…

**~c~s~**

It's been weeks now since he dared to even come near me. I've seen him around the square of course, but he always bolts when I try and approach him. Again I curse myself for challenging him. So I had the small moment of victory when he gasped his breath and stood there like in trance. But since then? He's avoided me like the plague.

I stare into my vodka tonic morosely and stir it for the umpteenth time. God I hate my life right now…

'Oh for fuck's sake will you bloody well cheer up already?' Roxy exclaims with exasperation.

I smile bemusedly.

'Sorry Rox,' I apologise. 'I know I'm being a right miserable sod, spoiling your night out as well as mine'.

'I know!' she cries out, rolling her eyes. 'What, you think I came to this gay club with you for my own amusement do you?'

I snort.

'Er… Yes?' I respond, giving her a cheeky smile.

She looks indignant for about five seconds before smiling rather sheepishly.

'Yeah alright then,' she acknowledges, leering a the scantily dressed clientele. 'Honestly though, isn't there anything here that catches your fancy?'

I can answer that question without looking. But I decide to humour her and look anyway.

'What about that one? The tall one, with the tattoo?' Roxy suggests.

I look in the direction she's pointing at. And yes, he's beautiful. Gorgeous even, with chocolate brown hair that curls in the neck and a shy smile that contrasts sharply with his muscle-toned body.

But all I can do is look him up and down listlessly. The truth is, I just can't be bothered. Nor can I be bothered about the sultry looking blonde pouting in the corner or the man with black curly hair that is dancing his little heart out in the middle of the club.

Yes, my eyes and brains and body recognise them as attractive, appealing, enticing… But at the end of the day, none of them come close to Syed. They're not Syed. Period. And sadly enough, for them and for me, that means I'm just not interested.

'I'm going home,' I announce suddenly, already standing up and looking around for my jacket.

'Noooooo!' Roxy complains, looking aghast. 'What are you talking about? It's barely midnight for Christ's sake! The night is young and so are we and all that crap. Come on, at least stay and have one dance with me?'

But all I do is shake my head.

'I'm sorry Rox, but I can't. I have to go. Just let me go yeah?'

She opens her mouth to argue, but something in my eyes must have convinced her that arguing would be useless. I won't be changing my mind. Not tonight.

'Ok,' she says finally, looking defeated. 'Will you be alright?'

She looks at me with concern, and I know she isn't just talking about tonight. I smile reassuringly.

'Yes. Of course I will be,' I answer.

She smiles back, looking relieved. Obviously my words have reassured her. _If only they could do the same for me…_

**~c~s~**

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	39. Chapter 39

**I'm so sorry for the long wait! But here it is, finally...**

**~s~c~**

I don't look. I simply refuse to look. If I refuse to acknowledge it, it'll go away. If I don't actually see it, it isn't real.

I stay away from mirrors. I know what they'll show me, know it only too well. Sometimes, I'll catch a glimpse of myself, caught unawares. What I see makes me cringe. I'm so thin, so very thin and pale. It's like I've become my own shadow… My eyes dull and empty, a reflection of my life.

I avoid seeing my wife. I look at her of course, she wouldn't tolerate it if I didn't. But I don't actually _see_ her. She's there, a constant presence in my mind and at my side. But it's almost like she isn't a real person to me anymore. She tries to talk to me, does her best to reach me, but all I give is as little as I can get away with. A snippet of conversation, a bland smile, a quick peck or casual touch, that is all I have in me to give.

I haven't looked at that bloody family photo Mum insisted on since the first time she forced it under my nose. Once was enough, thank you. What I saw was a British-Asian family, dressed in colourful, traditional clothes, smiling at the camera. Proud parents, displaying their children and their beautiful daughter in law. The eldest son looked perfectly at ease, an established member of that family, smiling, belonging… I feel no connection to this man. How can that be me? It isn't me…

I've distanced myself from the world around me by looking away. I've retreated into myself and have become my mask. At times it's like the person I was behind that mask has disappeared and now the mask is all that is left. A mask good enough to convince everyone, except those that know better.

Amira for one. She knows something is wrong, I know she does, but she doesn't come out and say it thankfully. I've heard her take a breath, as if getting ready to ask me something big. I've felt her staring at me, at night in our bed, as I feign sleep. I realise this can't go on. There will be a confrontation and when it comes, I hope I'll have some words to say. Because right now? I have nothing…

No words for Mum, who knows only too well what's wrong with me, even if she'll never admit it. She watches me, almost constantly still. But even if I had the words, she wouldn't be interested in hearing them. All she wants is the illusion. I'm hanging on, in part for her, but I don't know if I can hang on for much longer… I'll either have to snap myself out of this state of half-life and face the world again, or… Or I'll drown. I will become mask, I will become shadow, and the me I once was will simply fade away.

I'm avoiding life. It's trying to force me to make choices I'm not sure I'm ready to make. I don't know if I ever will be…

I don't want to move out of home and live in that dump of a flat with Amira. The place is tiny and the thought of being cooped up with her like that is making me want to scream. I've blamed my lack of enthusiasm for any physical relationship between us on the thin walls and big ears numerous times. There's another one of my escape routes cut right off. I loosen my collar and make an effort to calm my breathing. I cannot do this. I can't.

But what I also can't do, is live with Mum for much longer. I can't breathe under her scrutiny, she's doing my head in. What the fuck more does she want from me anyway? I'm trying, aren't I? I am. Never mind that it's killing me.

I know what I _don't_ want. I don't want to live with Mum any longer. I don't want to move into a tiny flat with Amira. And yet, those are my only choices…

**~s~c~**

_I don't want this. I don't want this…_ The words keep turning over and over in my mind. Amira has made the decision for us, and now I'm supposed to convince Mum and Dad that moving into this tiny flat is actually a good idea. Now if only I could convince myself…

I check the time and curse. Amira should have been here by now. My parents could be here any minute and I don't think I'll be able to convince them of anything by myself.

I look around the small, damp smelling flat. _I don't want this_, I think again and again. But the trouble is, the only alternative is staying where we are. And that's not what I want either. This is hopeless…

A sharp nock at the door interrupts my train of thought. I rush to the door, hoping it will be Amira.

'Mum, Dad, come in please,' I say as I swing the door open.

'Thank you son,' Dad says, walking past me, Mum following suit.

The look on their faces speak volumes.

'You've just got to… use your imagination… It'll look completely different when it's decorated,' I try. It sounds half-hearted, even to my own ears. Shit, this is going to be a disaster…

Mum has a look of complete horror on her face. Dad has apparently decided to inspect every corner of the tiny flat and find fault with the lot.

'Hmmm… Argh, what's this?' he proclaims. He's found some iffy smelling dust and holds it out for Mum to sniff.

'It's nothing that can't be fixed,' I protest, starting to feel desperate.

The arguing seems to go on and on. Dad has no trouble finding flaw after flaw and Mum's disapproval reaches new heights. I think she'd drag me out by my hair if she could. _Just grit your teeth and bear it_, I tell myself. If I go back now, that means a lot more time right under their noses, them, Mum, scrutinising my life as they're scrutinising this flat. No. Just, no. I might not be happy about moving into this flat, but I think my need to get away from them might be greater than my need to not be here…

I cringe as I see Dad pick a new target.

'What's this? Ah, it's mouse poo'.

'Ok, no no no no no no, that does it,' Mum cries out. 'You are moving into this place over my dead body'.

She's shaking her head and flapping her hands about, a sure sign of how agitated she's feeling. This is going nowhere fast.

'I'll sort it Mum!' I blurt out. Because I want her to stop. To please stop and just fucking go away already.

'No you won't Syed!' she bites at me. 'You always say you do, but you don't. This is you all over. Jumping in without giving anything a thought. No, this is not going to happen'.

I'm shocked at how her harsh words can still hurt me so much. I've heard it all before, many times unfortunately. But somehow, that doesn't make it any easier to take.

That's the moment Amira picks to finally show up.

'Ok, ok,' she says, holding up her hands in mock surrender. 'Mum, Dad, I know you're worried about the decorating. So am I. Which is why I've called in some professional help'.

My heart stops. It literally stops beating for a moment, before it starts thumping, loud and fast. I know what's going to happen a split second before he walks in. Christian…

'Well actually, that ain't strictly true, is it. Well not professional. But I did once do this house up for a dancer mate of mine and, well, he was more than happy with the results,' he says, casual as you like.

I'm not sure what's happening to me… There he is, looking like the poster boy for DIY in his ridiculous dungarees, carrying his tools and a ladder. A _ladder_ for fuck's sake! My breathing is out of control, along with my heart. I'm panicking. I don't know what to do…

From the corner of my eyes, I see Mum flick her gaze between me and Christian, looking for my reaction. I should pull myself together, but there's no chance of that any time soon. I think I might be in shock.

'Aren't I brilliant Mum?' Amira says, sounding smug. 'Christian will take care of everything for us. He'll have the place in tiptop shape, ready for Syed and I to move in in no time'.

Mum isn't quick enough with her reply. She's seen my reaction, I know she has, and she's struggling to regain control of herself. She manages it eventually, evoking no more than a quizzical look from Dad as a comment on the awkward silence.

'Oh… yes,' she finally manages, giving a smile that shows too much teeth to be mistaken for genuine. 'I'm sure he'll do a splendid job'.

I only half hear her. I'm vaguely aware of a conversation going on, Dad pointing out all the flat's deficiencies and Christian cheerfully stating how he'll fix every one.

I'm not listening. I'm too busy panicking to actually listen. The sight of Christian, here, so close, looking as gorgeous as ever… It brings it all back. It was there all along of course, denied but not forgotten.

I'm not even sure why it's hit me so hard all of a sudden. I mean, it isn't as if I haven't seen him around at all. I suppose it's the fact that he'll be here now, every day. And the way he looks. I can't deny it. Even though the dungarees are less then flattering perhaps, they do expose those fantastic , naked, arms. Those arms that represent so much of what I love, so much of what I've been craving… Strength, warmth, a feeling of belonging…

The walls of protection I had pulled up around me, start to crumble. I try and hold them up, too scared of what will happen when I'm left vulnerable and unprotected. But it's no use... Within seconds, those walls have come crashing down with a violence that leaves me reeling in its wake.

I won't look him in the eyes. Whenever his gaze floats my way, I quickly glance down. I think I might cry if I don't. Because all I want is him. Still. As hard as I've fought, that's all it comes down to. Wanting him. _Needing_ him.

What am I going to do? What the hell am I going to _do_…

**~s~c~**

**Thank you to all that have left me a review so far. I can't believe I've hit the 300 mark :-o**

**You have no idea how much that means to me :-)**


	40. Chapter 40

**This chapter is from Christian's POV. It's set right after Zainab empties a can of paint over Christian's head. Remember that one?**

**The lovely reviews I received for the last chapter made me write this one quick smart. Reviewing pays! Hope you enjoy :-)**

**~c~s~**

I'm going crazy. Insane. Out of my mind.

I've told myself that over and over again since I agreed to fix up this flat yesterday._ His_ flat. _Their_ flat… What on earth was I thinking?

I knew it'd be difficult. I knew I'd be thinking about him pretty much every second of every day until I finish this job. Like that's anything new. I also knew I'd have to see him, be near him, probably talk to him quite a bit.

_Well, that's your answer right there_, I think wryly. At the end of the day, being here means being close to Syed. And hard as that may be, being away from him will always be the more difficult choice.

What I _didn't_ take into account, was just how much time I'd have to spend with Zainab. I pull a face as I try and wipe away the disgusting paint that has me covered almost from head to toe. Thank you Zainab.

I clench my jaw in anger as I look at myself as best I can without a mirror. The paint has ruined my dungarees which is no great loss, but I quite liked this shirt. I sigh as I loosen the straps and pull down the front of my, now vile peach coloured, dungarees. Yes, the shirt will have to go. I quickly strip it off and angrily scrunch it up in my fist.

From the other room, I hear Zainab mucking around with a roller and some paint, like nothing's happened. That thought annoys me to no end, and without really thinking about it, I step into the room to confront her.

'Well that is ruined. And you're gonna pay for it!' I announce.

Even with anger coursing through my veins, I notice Zainab's shoulders slumping. Like she's tired of this confrontation. Like she's fighting a losing battle and knows it. Like she hoped I would just slump off in defeat, covered in shame instead of paint. I think not.

'Don't push me,' she threatens, turning toward me with a giant paint roller in her hands.

'You're pushing _me_ Zainab,' I shoot right back.

'Well obviously not hard enough. I mean how much pushing would it take huh Christian?' she challenges me. 'How much pushing would it take to push you _out_'.

With those last words, she actually paints me with the roller from my chest up to my face. Unbelievable. If she thinks that'll make me back down, she is very much mistaken.

'More than you're capable of darling,' I state boldly.

And I mean it. Her actions actually strengthen my resolve. She wouldn't be fighting this hard if she wasn't afraid. Afraid of what I could do. Afraid of my feelings. But most of all, afraid of her son's feelings for me…

'Oh really? ' I ask, not impressed in the slightest.

That angers her and she pushes the paint roller toward me again. But I'm not having it. I easily fend her off as she tries to struggle with me for control of the roller.

'Just-lay-off!' I bite at her.

She keeps struggling. We both have hold of the handle attached to the roller now, she's not giving up but she's no match for me.

'No, _you_ lay off!' she almost screams at me.

'Zainab… Just stop it alright?' I say to her, now also raising my voice.

'No!' she shrieks, keeping the struggle going even though she must know she can't win. Not this fight.

'Stop it right now. I'm warning you!' I try and talk some sense into her.

'Why? What are you going to do Christian, eh? Are you going to hit a woman?' she accuses me.

I instantly freeze. That's what she _would_ think, isn't it. I step back and release the paint roller, squaring my jaw. I'm done with this. I shake my head. Yes, I'm done.

But Zainab isn't ready to let this go.

'You're such a coward,' she sneers.

What happens after is a bit of a blur. She steps up to try and attack me once again, looking to hit me over the head with the roller I think. Instead, she steps into the container of paint, slips, twists and lands flat on her face.

I have no chance to react. I'm just standing there, still reeling, when the front door suddenly swings open and Masood steps in.

'Surprise!' he calls out, smiling. He hasn't noticed yet that his wife is sprawled out on the floor, paint splattered all over her.

I don't know what to say. Don't know what to do. I turn to look at Masood and see he's carrying Kamil in his arms. And right behind him, Syed walks in. Oh God… What is he going to think?

'What's happened? Are you alright?' Masood asks, finally having noticed that Zainab is on the floor.

I look back and forth uncertainly, still unable to move or even utter a single word. What is she going to say? What are they going to think? What is _Syed_ going to think?

'Do I look alright?' Zainab finally says bitterly, wiping away some of the paint. 'Look what he's done!'

My eyes fly toward Syed, my heart literally pounding inside my chest. How will he react? Is he going to believe her? Will he…

Our eyes lock and I let out a gasp at what I see in his. It's like we're alone, no one else here, just me and him. He draws me in with his eyes, a look of longing in them, so powerful it's almost painful to see.

All of a sudden it's real. I haven't let myself believe it until now, didn't _dare_ believe it until _right now_. He still wants me. He still needs me. He's not thinking about Zainab, not thinking about anything but _us_.

I feel naked standing in front of him like this. What am I saying, I _am_ half naked. His eyes flick to my naked chest before focussing on my eyes again. The pure _want_ in them is taking my breath away.

I need to get out of here. Need to go, right now. This is all so confusing… If it was just me and him, I'd rush over to pull him into my arms and kiss him to within an inch of his life. Hell, I'm tempted to do that even now, in front of his parents for fuck's sake. Yes, I really need to go…

Sy seems to understand me. He gives me a quick nod and indicates the door with his head.

'I… I think it's best if I go for now,' I stammer. I clear my throat and continue in a slightly steadier voice: 'I should get cleaned up. A shower and all that. Yeah…'

God that was lame. I give an apologetic smile to Masood, ignore Zainab and look at Sy one more time before I hurriedly collect my things and leave.

**~c~s~**

I sigh in contented bliss as I step under the shower and give into the soft caress of the warm water on my naked skin. Dutifully, I begin to scrub my body and hair, trying to get rid of every last trace of that hideous paint. When I'm satisfied I'm good as new, I can't bring myself to step out of the shower just yet.

I know where this is going. In fact, I knew where this was going even before I got undressed and stepped into this shower. My hand, still slippery with soap, slides down my chest, over my belly until it envelops my fully erect cock in a firm grip. I hiss my breath in through my teeth.

Finally… I've been hard from the moment Syed looked at me like that, like he used to, like he's still _mine_… I groan as I start to move my hand, up and down my shaft, slowly, tantalisingly slow…

My mind flies back to the many memories I have of him, of us, in this very room, in this very shower even. When I close my eyes, I can _see_ him, kneeling down in front of me, my cock in his mouth. I remember the strokes of his tongue, the lapping, the sucking… His hair is wet, his eyes closed against the water, his mouth hot and wet, perfect…

My hand starts to speed up, moving up and down furiously while my hips buck up into my fist. I let my head fall back, welcoming the cascading water that pummels my face.

Another image flickers in front of my eyes, very similar to the last one. Except it's me this time, I'm the one on my knees. I remember the feel of his cock in my mouth, hot, firm, heavy. I remember how he whimpered, how he whispered my name, over and over again. I remember sucking harshly while slipping a finger between his arse cheeks and gently pushing at his entrance. I remember him almost falling, his legs giving way underneath him, only just managing to stay upright as his back hit the tiled wall along with his hands.

God I remember… I remember it all.

More images… Syed, forehead and hands pressed up against the cool tiles as I pound into him. Muttering incoherent words of encouragement, pushing his arse back to meet my every thrust. Frantic kisses tracing the line of his neck and shoulder, biting down, perhaps a bit too harshly as my orgasm rips through me. Sy's head falling back to rest on my shoulder, his mouth open in a hoarse cry as his own climax grips him.

My free hand is roaming over my body restlessly. So close, I'm so bloody close. The hand on my cock is moving at an incredible pace now, my thumb swiping over the slit at the head with every other stroke. My balls tighten and my back arches as I moan his name and come and come and come...

**~c~s~**

The lingering bliss of the rather satisfying wank lasts about as long as it takes me to get dressed. Before I put on my socks and shoes, reality has come back to hit me in full force.

Am I reading too much into this? It was just one look for fuck's sake. I know what I saw, I know what was there, but was that just a slip? He's moving in with Amira, I know better than anyone, seeing as I've been attempting to make their dingy looking flat suitable to actually live in. Because his _wife_ asked me to.

What does it all _mean_. Has anything really changed?

I grab my keys, throw on my coat and head out the door. I'm desperate for some fresh air, some perspective on all this. I'm driving myself insane with all these questions I don't have the answers to.

I wander down the streets aimlessly, stopping in at the MinuteMart as I pass it. Might as well pick up some groceries while I'm there.

The streets are wet, but it isn't raining just now thank God. That's just what I need, some miserable, dreary rain to go with my miserable dreary mood.

This is no use. I might as well head home. Forget about the flat for a while. Forget about _him_ for a while. Just… forget.

As I walk up the street, I can't seem to help myself. My eyes fly up to look at his window and I freeze. He's there, looking right at me from behind the glass.

He looks so sad. I'm not sure what's going on in his head. I hope he knows I didn't mean to make things difficult with his Mum. She just riles me, that's all.

'Sorry,' I mouth silently, hoping he'll understand.

And then it happens. My heart stops as he reaches out a hand and places it on the cold glass. And he looks at me. God how he looks at me…

In the background I hear this song playing, it's a song I keep hearing everywhere, repeating the lyrics "We've got to fight for this love" over and over again. And in that moment, I know that's exactly what I need to do.

I stand there, unable to look away, with what I know must be a foolish grin on my face and hope searing through my veins. Amira, Zainab, they can all go and fuck themselves for all I care. Syed is _mine_ and I won't rest until he's back where he belongs. With _me_. For good this time.

**~c~s~**

**Still love those reviews :-)**


	41. Chapter 41

**This chapter is from Syed's POV.**

**WARNING: This chapter contains the dreaded SBM. Please remember, EE made me do it :(**

**~s~c~**

'Syed, help the poor man out, ' Dad says, practically pushing me toward Christian.

Great. It's like everything, everyone, is conspiring against me. Trying to shove me back, back toward Christian. And me? I should put up a token protest at the very least. But I don't… Of course I don't. Instead, I cross the road to meet him.

'Need a hand?' I offer, smiling awkwardly.

Christian gives me an easy smile in return, all warmth and light.

'My knight in shining armour. Go on then, take that one,' he says, pointing to a monstrosity of a sander.

I bend down and try and figure out how to even grip this thing. When I've managed to get a hold, I make a futile attempt to lift it.

He laughs at my inadequacy. Instead of it nettling me, it floods me with warmth.

'Some help you are,' he scoffs.

'Well not everyone can have your ripped physique,' I counter. Cringing at my own words, I try to lighten the mood, get us away from dangerous territory by continuing: 'Can't all afford the steroids…'

He takes it in his stride.

'Hey listen, I'm 100% organic GM free beef. And well you know it. My body's a temple,' he says.

His voice, deepening for those last two sentences, stirs something in me. I'd almost forgotten it could be like this between us. The feelings have been so gut wrenching for so long, always deep and meaningful, full of sexual tension, that this easy, almost flirtatious banter catches me by surprise.

'Yeah well, that's not what I would call it…' I reply, my breath catching slightly.

He laughs. I've missed that laugh… Didn't realise how much until just now.

'Come on… 'he says, bending down to help me lift the sander. 'Superman'.

He looks at me as he says it, his face so close to mine that I have to quickly look away.

'Easy tiger!' he calls out as we try and manoeuvre the thing through the door and up the stairs.

We both laugh before hauling the sander all the way up the stairs. When we finally reach the top of the stairs, I let the blasted thing drop to the floor and then bend over, panting heavily with the exertion.

'You are such a lightweight,' Christian accuses me, the corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk.

I've not enough breath in me to argue. He walks in through the apartment door and I follow him after a few steadying breaths.

'Are you going to help me sand those floors?' he asks, looking back at me over his shoulder.

I shake my head.

'I don't think so. I'm hopeless at home improvement, would only get in your way… But I can make you some tea if you like?' I offer.

'Go on,' he says, smiling encouragingly. 'I could do with a cup before starting this. You will join me for that, won't you?'

Something warm unfurls in my belly at the look in his eyes. I've got used to walking around in a constant fog, almost isolated from the rest of the world. But it seems that from him, a few kind words, a warm smile and a lingering look or two is all it takes. I feel like the densest parts of the fog have been lifted, enabling me to see that what is right in front of me.

It is both scary and exhilarating at the same time. Slowly, ever so slowly, my body, my heart, seems to awaken from a deep hibernation. I open my eyes and see, start to _feel_ again.

'Yeah,' I reply. 'Yeah of course'.

I find it just as impossible to say no to him as it always has been. We drink some tea from plastic cups and talk about this and that. About the weird colour scheme Amira has chosen. About how nice the weather has been lately. About… nothing really. But his eyes tell an entirely different tale.

Nothing heavy. Nothing intense. But a promise… A promise of something warm and wonderful. Of possibilities… Of things I've told myself over and over again that cannot be.

And yet, here we are…

He doesn't touch me. I think he's avoiding touching me, cautious not to push me, worried I'll run away. But I don't think I can… I've lived in a world of darkness, loneliness and hopelessness for so long now, that I can't help but bask in this single glimpse of sun. The light, the warmth, I've been craving that, _him_, for months now. So I talk, smile and take in as much of it as I can.

**~s~c~**

I put my hand on the doorknob and pause. I take a deep breath and try to steady myself, ground myself. My head is filled with inappropriate words and laughter, filled with thoughts of him. He's all I've been able to think off, him, me, us…

_I don't want to be here…_

Never mind. Never mind that now. I promised Amira I'd meet her here. So that's what I'll do. I release my breath and let myself in.

'Hello!' I call out as I climb the stairs and open the door to our flat. I don't see Amira anywhere, but I do see a soft light coming from what will be our bedroom. Hesitantly, I walk toward it.

When I look inside, she's there. She's wearing some skimpy little red thing that I've never seen before. The bedroom is draped in colourful see-through shawls and I even spot a few candles burning in a corner. Alarm bells are ringing at a deafening level as I step into what for all intents and purposes looks like a harem.

'I've been waiting for you…' she says, her voice soft and a bit lower than usual.

'I… I thought we were… going out,' I stutter, full of trepidation. It's obvious I'm entering some sort of romantic setup here and it's making me extremely uncomfortable.

'Change of plans,' she replies, pulling me in by my hand. Before I know it, she's unzipped my jacket, pressed a kiss against my lips and pushed me down on the bed. And how did _that_ get in here anyway?

'Look… you know all this… lacy, frilly stuff is not really my thing,' I try and protest. But she ignores me, grabs some shiny, silvery fabric and blindfolds me with it. 'We've been here before!'

'Not like this we haven't,' she says, in a sing-song voice.

How on earth am I going to get myself out of this? This is _so_ bad. I need to get out of here. _Now_. My heart is racing as I try, unsuccessfully, to temper my panic.

'Uhm… What are you doing?' I ask pointlessly. It's pretty obvious what she's doing. Her, me, the bed… _Oh fuck, I think I'm going to be sick…_

As she's leaning over me, I can smell the heavy, sweet-smelling perfume she's doused herself with. It's making me feel more than a little queasy. 'We haven't even moved in yet! What about dinner, I'm starving!'

'I've got a solution. Taste this…' she replies.

Before I know it, her fingers are on my lips, smearing something strange and sticky on them. What the fuck _is_ that? I swipe my tongue over my lips. It tastes sort of… chocolatey?

I stand up, unable to take a second more of this. I pull the blindfold away from my eyes and shrug my jacket back on.

'I'm sorry…' I mumble. And I am. So sorry. But there's no way I can do this. Not now. Not today. Not… just _not today_.

'Chocolate body paint?' I continue. 'Blindfolds? It… It's silly… Look, put some… clothes on and… we'll go out. Yeah?'

I try and smile reassuringly at her. Like nothing's wrong. Like this isn't excruciatingly awkward and incredibly painful. But there's no helping it. I need to get out of here _right now_. I give her a quick peck on the cheek and almost run out the door.

Taking the steps two at a time, I fling open the door and gulp in the slightly cool evening air. _Breathe… I need to breathe…_

**~s~c~**

I feel haunted. I've done it again, haven't I… Fooled myself into thinking, into forgetting what's real, what can be real and what… can't. My head is such a mess right now. I don't know what to do.

I'd convinced myself that if I just slept with Amira once, I'd be ok. It'd prove to her, to… to her that I could do it. That everything would be fine. That I was normal. If I could do it once, I could do it again, surely.

That's what I thought. What I was sure of in fact. I laugh bitterly while pushing my hair back from my face. I really don't understand myself sometimes. And at other times, I understand myself so painfully well…

It's him. It's always him. When it comes to Christian, all reason flies out the window. It's not that I forget all the objections, all the reasons why we can't be together. It's that I can't bring myself to care. I want him. Full stop. And everything else will always be less important than that one, simple fact.

I've allowed myself to dream for a while. Allowed myself to think I could fall back into the warm bath of his love, his affection, his feelings for me. I can't seem to help myself. I've seen the way Mum looks at me, heard the words she's used to try and convince me, but I've ignored it all. Until now.

Because I can't any longer. Amira won't let me.

I'm not sure what's got into her. She's trying to get close, get to know me, get me to…

And now she's asked me to come help her at the flat. I sigh and get up from the bench, stretching my limbs, body aching. I have no idea how long I've been sitting here, brooding. I shake myself, trying to rid myself of all the doubt, all the worry, all the insecurities in one go. And hey, at least I know Christian won't be there. I sigh heavily. Yes, that _is_ a good thing…

My feet reluctantly carry me over to what will soon be my flat. Mine and Amira's. A place where it's just her and me. My feet seem to move even more slowly now, but still I find myself in front of the door sooner than I'd have liked. I turn the key, let myself in and drag my arse up the stairs. I allow myself one more moment of hesitation, before opening the door to my flat. _Our_ flat.

The first thing I see is a flustered looking Amira. She's wearing a vaguely familiar shirt that is way too big for her and her hair is done up. She looks… pretty I suppose. But in an approachable manner. Nice.

'Hey,' she greets me, giving me a quick peck on the cheek.

'Hiya,' I give back, trying for a relaxed smile.

It's not that hard somehow. Things seem… different. It's the flat for one thing. It looks like it's almost finished and most of the furniture has been moved in already. Wow, Christian must have been busy… _No_, I tell myself, shaking my head. _Not now. I won't think about him now_.

'The place looks great!' I say. "I thought you said you needed some help? Looks like it's pretty much done to me'.

She rolls her eyes at me and says: 'Hardly. There's still loads to do. But yes, we got a lot done today. Why don't you go check it out?'

'Ok,' I answer and make a quick round of the place. It looks pretty good actually. Perhaps I _will_ be able to feel at home here after all…

'Wow, uhm… it looks great,' I tell her honestly.

She gives a self-depreciating shrug. All of this seems so… out of character for her? But perhaps I'm wrong? I may have been married to her for more than three months now, but how well do we know each other, really… It's not as if I've made that much of an effort to get to know her. And as for letting her get to know me… Well, I've been reluctant in that department for obvious reasons. Obvious to me that is.

'Look, this morning I…' I begin. Because before all else, I need to apologise. It's not her fault I can't… It's not her fault. None of it is.

But she shushes me and puts a comforting hand on my arm.

'Yeah well I shouldn't have,' I continue regardless.

'That's ok,' she reassures me.

I'm so confused right now. She looks so different, casual almost, approachable. For the first time since our marriage I feel sort of… comfortable with her. She looks so non-threatening like this, bare footed, and with her hair now falling loose down her back. She's hardly wearing any make-up and there's something… so familiar about her, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

She turns and walks away from me, to put on some music. I can't believe it when I hear the oh so familiar notes of "Stand by me" fill the air. How did she know?

'That's my favourite film! How did you...' I ask, smiling.

She doesn't answer. Instead, she sways to the music awkwardly and slowly, cautiously, wraps her arms around me.

It feels so strange… Her hair, the scent of her hair, of her skin, of her shirt, all so different yet so familiar. And the music. I didn't think she knew me that well. Didn't think I could share things like this with her, _real_ things. I sway with her, move with her. It's almost _easy_ all of a sudden.

She leans back a bit to look at me and stops moving.

'What? What is it?' she asks, brow furrowed.

I'm feeling so conflicted, I don't know what to say for a moment. Has the solution been under my nose this entire time? _Can_ I be a husband to Amira? It almost feels like… If I could just take a leap, a blind leap of faith…

'It's this. This moment… It's perfect,' I say.

Because it is. Or it should be anyway… It's now or never, I _know_ it is. One chance to be the man I always wanted to be. Hoped to be…

She looks at me, her eyes so full of longing, desperate longing. But it's the fear I respond to. She's just as scared as I am, and who could blame her? She has no idea, none at all. I need to give this a chance, just one more chance…

And then she reaches up and kisses me.

They're just lips really. I think I can do this. The music, the atmosphere, the scent… I allow it to wrap around me and take me. I surrender to it, go with the moment, and kiss her back.

Straight away I know it's wrong. The kiss is lukewarm at best. It doesn't feel right. Not right at all. But I'm not ready to give up. So instead of retreating, I deepen the kiss, throwing all my unresolved feelings of love, sexual longing, passion and despair into this _one kiss_.

I want to cry. But I don't. I stubbornly push on, push her back until she falls back on the sofa. I kiss her, touch her and try not to think about how very _wrong_ this is. I close my eyes and force myself to ignore the hair that is too long, the body that is too soft, the hands that are too small…

Somehow, I make it work. The music in the background, the familiar scent that is like a caress, the almost complete silence between us, enables me to hold things together. I can do this. I _can_ do this. And if I can do this, I might be able to have that life I dreamed of after all.

That thought alone, is enough to strengthen my resolve. I can do this. _And I will_.

**~s~c~**

**Reviews still very much appreciated :)**


	42. Chapter 42

**Erm... No, I haven't abandoned this story! So sorry for the tardy update. I'll try and make it up to you all by not making you wait too long for the next update...  
This is from Christian's POV, the aftermath of SBM. So yeah, it's sad :(**

**~c~s~**

_I did this. I'm the one who made it happen. Oh God, I can't believe I did this…_

I remember those to be my last coherent thoughts of the night. I thought them as I hid in what would soon be _their_ bedroom, and tried not to listen. Tried so hard not to think, not to even _be_ there.

By the time I finally managed to make my escape, I was angry. Angry at her, angry at Syed, but most of all, angry with myself. Because _I_'m the one to blame. Me. No one else but me.

I've made a fool of myself. I'd managed to convince myself that his love for me would be enough, that he wanted me enough, needed me enough. The knowledge that I was wrong, has pretty much destroyed me. There's nothing left. Nothing left of me but this little ball of misery, clutching at a cushion for comfort that it is unable to give.

I can't close my eyes. Every time I try, I imagine seeing them together. _Why_ did I do this? What the fuck was I thinking? At the time, I told myself I was trying to help. Amira was so upset, and this isn't fair on her, I know that. So I tried to help.

But honestly? Somewhere deep down, I'd convinced myself that it wouldn't work. That he'd see through it all, see _me_ through it all. God how wrong I was…

I spend the night and following day in miserable loneliness. Though not really alone, since Lucy comes to check on me several times.

'Come on Christian, he's _so_ not worth getting this upset over. It'll be alright, you'll see,' she says, bringing me yet another cup of tea.

'I know,' I assure her, even though I don't mean it. But she's been amazing these last couple of days, and I really do appreciate it. I try and give her a grateful smile and must have succeeded a little bit ay least as she smiles back at me.

So far, she's got me to get some sleep, have something to eat, to drink and this morning I even took a shower. Honestly, I think I'm finished wallowing now. It's no use. And it's not as if it's anything new either. He's married. He's not mine. He never will be. I know that. I'll get over it. I will.

'Shouldn't you be at school?' I ask suddenly.

Lucy shrugs her shoulders.

'Who cares?' she says.

'Lucy…'

I give her my best stern Uncle Christian stare. She grins and says: 'School ended over thirty minutes ago. Time sure flies when you're feeling miserable, doesn't it?'

She leaves an hour later, but only after I've promised her I'll be ok for the night. I allow myself a couple of minutes to sit on the sofa and feel miserable before I grab my sports bag and head for the gym.

**~c~s~**

_Run. Run. Run._

The words are like a mantra, droning on and on in my head, effectively drowning out all other thoughts. I'm on the treadmill, have been for almost twenty minutes. This was a great idea, the running soothes me, calms me, empties my head. It has the same effect on me as a night clubbing does, but since I'm in no mood for _that_ right now, running it is.

_Run. Run. Run._

I run with my eyes closed, only opening them every minute or so to check on my heart rate and the number of miles I've run. I feel exhilarated. My heart is pounding, I can feel it, but I can't hear it. The loud music coming from my IPod stops me from hearing anything else. Then suddenly the seemingly endless string of similar sounding techno dance music is interrupted and I hear the achingly familiar intro of the one song I can't possibly handle right now. I almost lose my balance and catch myself to prevent me from falling only just in time. I frantically scramble for my IPod and curse at it as it won't skip the song quick enough.

"When the night, has come. And the land is dark. And the moon, is the only…"

Oh thank God for that. I hadn't realised I'd stopped breathing the minute the song started. I remember Sy putting this song on here. I'll have to delete it at some point. Furiously, I stab at the buttons on the treadmill, upping the pace until I can barely keep up. The loud music from another one of those thumping beats is oddly soothing to my nerves.

Within seconds I'm panting heavily and sweating profusely. I grab my bottle of water and rehydrate, making sure I don't pass out before I get this out of my system. For now. Get this out of my system for now. I'm not an idiot, I realise this is no permanent fix. But it'll get me through the night and that is enough for now.

_Run. Run. Run._

I'm not alone in this gym, but I might as well be. Rob tried to chat me up earlier, just like he always does, but tonight I couldn't even bring myself to respond. He's alright, and we both know our banter isn't anything serious really. He's practically engaged for fuck's sake. Shit. I'll have to apologise. Tomorrow.

_Run. Run. Run._

I'm not thinking about him. I'm not. My eyes fly open and I watch myself running, my image reflected back to me by the mirrored wall in front of me. _Liar_. But it doesn't matter. Because when I'm running like this, I can handle anything. I can practically feel myself getting stronger. I'll survive, just like I always do. I flash myself a wry smile, and somehow, that makes me feel a bit better.

It's after ten when I make my way back home. I've not taken a shower yet, I'll do that when I get home. For now, I like the feeling of the sweat, cooling down my overheated skin. The music is still pounding in my ears, I haven't taken the earplugs out yet. I chose to stay alone in my world, ignoring everybody and everything around me.

When I enter my flat, I walk straight to the bathroom and get the shower running. I pull my black vest over my head, almost making the forgotten IPod fly across the room. I save it just in time, kick off my trainers, get rid of sweatpants and pants and step under the scolding hot stream of water. I hiss and adjust the water to a more tolerable temperature.

Good. This is good. My body feels tired and a bit achy, but it's not a bad feeling. I think I might be able to sleep tonight. And tomorrow, I'm done. I'm going to go over to that fucking flat and work on it until it's finished. After that, I can go on with my life. I'm not fooling myself. I know I'm nowhere near over him, but I'll get there. I'll make sure I do.

**~c~s~**

In the morning, I don't give myself time to think about it. I get to the flat, bright and early, ready to get some work done. I try not to think of the possibility that they're still here. I don't think I could handle seeing them right now, not after…

I breathe a sigh of relief as I see the flat is empty. Alright. Alright, I think I'll be ok now. I'll work on the bedroom today. I quickly cross to the bedroom, open the door and step in.

It's literally like the breathe has been kicked out of me. _Fuck_. What the fuck has she done?

Straight away I know it's Lucy. Only one person would be so stupid, so brazen, so… wonderful as to do this. Syed loves Christian. It's staring me in the face, in bold pink lettering. I allow myself one moment to think of my wicked niece fondly, but then I snap out of it. This is not ok. This is _so_ not ok. I want Amira to know, of course I do. But not like this, never like this…

The day quickly turns into a nightmare. Before I know it, I'm chasing an evasive Lucy, who's somehow managed to get rid of the last roll of wallpaper, the one I'll need to cover up the big, blaring pink heart adorning Syed and Amira's future bedroom wall. As if that thought alone isn't depressing enough, I'm also avoiding Amira, who's decided that now's the perfect time to show some interest in the work I've been doing, demands to see the bedroom, something I obviously can't let her see.

In the end, I manage to dodge her, find both Lucy and the missing wallpaper, and can finally make a start on covering the graffiti. I've even roped Lucy into helping me and I'm hopeful we can sort this mess out before anyone else needs to find out.

I've only just started putting on the first strip of wallpaper when it happens.

'What's this?'

The words are spoken quietly, like he's in shock. Syed. He's walked in without me noticing. I can't believe it. I fucking well can't believe it. How on earth am I going to talk myself out of this one?

'It's a pink graffiti heart. You know, it's the next generation's way of expressing their inner feelings. It's a piece of art really,' Lucy comments coolly.

She obviously has no problem finding the words she wants to say. I want to kick her and hug her at the same time.

Syed just stands there, like he's frozen on the spot. He hasn't moved, or spoken, or I think even _breathed_, since he set foot into this room.

Eventually, I take pity on him.

'Look, relax Sy. It isn't as bad as it looks,' I say in what I hope is a calm, soothing voice. I hold up the strip of wallpaper and continue: 'See? We'll have it covered up in no time at all'.

My words seem to snap him into action. He stalks over to the table and starts administering large quantities of glue to the next strip of wallpaper. Without comment, I turn back to the wall and finish putting up the first strip. Ridiculous as it is, my heart aches a little as the first part of the heart is hidden with wallpaper.

We work in silence for a bit. That is, me and Sy work while Lucy is being her unhelpful self, apparently deciding that her job is keeping up the wall by leaning against it.

'Just get it covered,' he says, breaking the silence.

'What do you think I'm doing?' I bite back.

'Look, Amira said she was calling by on her way to work. What if she's already seen it?' he asks, sounding understandably anxious. Or I _would_ understand, if I wasn't so bloody done with this…

'Well she didn't alright, because I got here first,' I assure him anyway.

'Awww, that's a shame,' Lucy butts in. That girl is seriously doing my head in…

'What, you two came up with this together did you?' Syed accuses.

'Dose of the truth a bit hard to take?' she gives right back.

God she has a vicious tongue on her. I ignore the fact that she's pretty much saying exactly what I'd like to say myself.

'Lucy, would you just…' I start quietly, trying to be the voice of reason here.

'Look whatever,' she interrupts me, 'he's got it coming to him one way or another'.

With a glare at Syed, she walks out, leaving us alone.

It doesn't take him long to start blabbering on about how happy he is with Amira, and how I can't stand that. How she knows him like no one else does. Yeah right. I'm _this_ close to blurting out the truth, tell him exactly how it is that he was finally able to take his wife to bed. But there's no need to rattle him, the sound of Amira entering the flat does that just fine. And of course, the heart is nowhere near fully covered. It's like the words are screaming at us, taunting us with their truth and a childish part of me wants to point at it and say "See? See, you do love me. I know you do, You know it, Lucy knows it, and soon Amira will know it too!"

But of course I don't. I sigh as I hear Syed trying to stop Amira from entering the room. I look at the pink words wistfully one more time, and then I go and help him. I'm not sure why. But I decide now's not the time to think about that…

**~c~s~**

**Next up: sofa kiss, yay! Can't wait to get my teeth into that one!  
Reviews still very much appreciated (also I'll take it as encouragement for a speedy update)!**


	43. Chapter 43

**This chapter is from Syed's POV. It's angry sofa kiss time!**  
**Sorry for keeping you waiting so long. I had this chapter almost finished ****before the awful spoilers came out and kind of lost heart. But it's here now :-)**

**~s~c~**

And then she says it. The thing that shatters every last little part of my illusion still remaining, the scraps of which I was holding onto for dear life.

'It's just… well, yesterday I needed a bit of advice and he was there and he was so sweet. And everything he said he was so right…' Amira sighs before continuing: 'That's the main thing isn't it? You and me, we are happier than we've ever been'.

She reaches out and strokes my cheek. I keep looking at her and then looking away, trying desperately to see in her what I saw the other night, a last futile attempt at convincing myself that I _did_ see something, that it _was_ different…

But the moment the words came out of her mouth I knew. I understood, as my subconscious had all along. Christian. It's always been Christian. And that flicker of possibility I saw in Amira when she stood before me, barefooted, wearing only a man's shirt? All him. Down to the shirt, the shower gel, the whole set-up, all of it _him_.

I want to get angry. I _am_ angry. But not for the right reasons. Not because I feel betrayed, by him, by her. Not because I'm disappointed. I'm angry because I knew. And now I have no choice but to face that truth.

I have to see him. I have to talk to him _right now_. I try not to think of the why, try not to think of what it is exactly that I want to say. All I know is that I can't not go. So I mumble something to excuse my leaving, I'm not really sure what, but Amira just smiles and waves me off. I shrug on my jacket and go to him.

I walk up the stairs to his flat slowly, reluctantly almost, pausing after every other step. The reality of what I'm doing is starting to dawn on me. In about a minute, I'm going to be alone with him, in his flat, talking about… I realise now that this is a spectacularly bad idea. Yet still I move on. It doesn't stop me from fumbling for my key, the one he gave me, and let myself in. And isn't that telling, that I thought ahead enough to even bring my key? The one I used when sneaking in here, in the middle of the night, slipping in between cool sheets and wrapping myself around the comfort of his warm body. The implications are not lost on me. I just choose not to think about them right now. Or not too closely anyway.

He's waiting for me. His mouth is drawn in anger, but his eyes betray him as they always do. He's angry, yes, but most of all, he's hurt. Again. And once again, it was me that caused that pain.

'It got out of hand earlier,' I start. 'I'm sorry'.

'Apology accepted,' he says.

He folds the tea towel he's holding, studiously looking away from me. Then he looks up and says: 'See yourself out'.

It's not unexpected, yet it still feels like a blow. He walks away from me, ignores me as he makes his way over to the sofa. But he's not getting rid of me that easily. I drop the keys on the table and follow him. Reluctant to sit down, I decide to remain standing.

'Look, I know you… helped Amira. She told me,' I admit hesitantly.

'Makes no difference now, you've made your feelings clear,' he responds semi-casually, like he couldn't care less. Even though I know it's an act, it still rattles me.

'Yeah that's right. So in the future I'd appreciate it if you didn't get involved,' I shoot back, unable to keep the anger from seeping into my voice.

'Sorry?' he asks, looking incredulous. The fact that he has reason to, doesn't stop me from resenting him for it.

'Well what happens with Amira, it's got nothing to do with you,' I insist.

'She came to me,' he argues.

'Yeah and I'll bet you loved that,' I accuse him bitterly.

'That's not true,' he counters.

I know he's right, of course I do. He isn't enjoying this any more than I am. But somehow, that knowledge only angers me more. I'm simply not capable of being reasonable right now.

'Yeah well thanks,' I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm now, 'but everything's just fine between us, your services are no longer required'.

I make a half-arsed attempt to leave, but we both know I'm not going anywhere. The moment he resumes talking, I drop all pretence of leaving.

'Go on, run along, play happy families. It won't make any difference,' he taunts me.

Fuck. He definitely still knows how to push my buttons. Always has.

'You know how it is for me,' I try and justify myself, try and make him understand.

'Yeah. And I am tired of it. Tired of waiting for you to stand up and do the right thing,' he counters.

'I _am_ doing the right thing,' I insist. And I am. That's _all_ I've been doing. Isn't it?

'Really?' he asks, getting up, really riled now. 'For who? Hey? Cause it's not for you. And it's certainly not for Amira. She came here. _Distraught_. Thinks it's her, thinks she's doing something wrong'.

I can't do anything but listen. It's like his words, his accusing eyes, have me frozen to the spot. His words are physically painful to me, more so because I know them to be true.

'And you know what that makes you?' he goes on, his words calm and quiet now. 'Selfish'.

'No I love her,' I protest. Because _that_ at least is true. It has to be.

'Selfish and gutless,' he says, his voice rising in anger.

'Back off,' I warn him. I swear I can't take much more of this. This has to stop. _Now_.

But it doesn't. _He_ doesn't. Instead, he keeps talking as he steps ever closer. The tension between us is so heavy it's almost palpable. For the first time tonight, I'm starting to get scared.

'When are you going to put her out of her misery eh? When are you going to tell her… that you love me…'

He's too close, much too close. Fuck this is hard… I feel naked, both his words and eyes chipping away at me, dissecting me. I want to lash out, hurt him like he's hurting me, but all the while what I want most is to pull him in even closer and not let go. I'm in way over my head and we both know it. My heart is racing, pumping adrenalin through my veins.

'Go on… say it,' he says, his words harsh and insistent.

'No,' I protest.

'Coward,' he accuses me.

And that's it. That's what finally makes me snap.

'No!' I cry out forcefully, pushing him away from me.

I've had enough, can't take a second more of this. He grabs my hand to stop me and just like that, we're in a struggle. I'm no match for him, but my anger, my frustration spurs me on. One minute, we're standing, shoving at each other, fighting for control. Then suddenly he's tumbling over the back of the sofa and pulling me down with him.

I'm so angry. I'm not thinking about why, I just know that he's_ not_ winning.

Except that he is. Before I know it, he's pushed me on my back, his leg swinging over mine to pin me in place, his hand placed around my throat. He's smothering me, half choking me. I try and wrestle free, gasp for air, struggle in his arms as he holds me down mercilessly. I manage to pull his hand away from my throat at least, sharp, heaving breaths filling my grateful lungs.

And then I look up at him and know I'm lost. I'm lying here, like I have so many times before, on his sofa, on my back, with him hovering over me. He looks at me and the world narrows down until it fits just the two of us.

I can't look away from his eyes. They mirror my emotions back to me, the vicious anger, the raw hurt. But overpowering it all, there's the heart wrenching _want_. God I want him. My body screams with need, the need to feel his hands on me, his arms around me, his mouth on mine. Helplessly, I reach out, curl my hand around his neck and pull him in for the kiss I crave.

He meets me halfway, bends down to crash our lips together in a kiss that is anything but tender. It's like he pours all his anger, all his frustration, into this one kiss, all but shoving his tongue down my throat.

I don't care. In fact, I give as good as I get. This feels more like a vicious scrap than a kiss, our tongues battling for dominance while our hands attempt to rip each other's clothes off in record time. It feels like a victory when I manage to get him naked first. In quick succession, I pull his t-shirt over his head, tear open the buttons of his jeans with one harsh tug and shove them down to tangle around his feet. Of course it helps that he's not wearing any pants and that he's the one to kick off his shoes and jeans with an impatient movement while he's still struggling to get me out of my shirt.

I have an advantage because he can't seem to stop himself from pinning me down, making it very difficult to get me out of my clothes. It's like he's afraid I'll change my mind and try and escape. Hardly. I grunt in satisfaction as I manage to pull him down , his full bodyweight pressing me down for a moment. I smooth my hands over his back, revelling in the feeling of his naked skin under my eager hands. When my hands slide down to cup his arse, he almost growls at me, bucking his hips compulsively into mine. I shudder at the sensation of his hard cock, rubbing against my still jean-clad groin.

My head spins as I'm suddenly yanked up. Christian is cursing softly, attacking my clothes with silent determination. Within seconds I'm naked, not sure who took off what, only sure that I am desperate to feel his naked body against mine one more time. We're both on our knees on the sofa now and I shake with relief as he wraps his arms around me, almost crushing me with the force of his embrace. My arms are trapped by my side as he kisses me, over and over again. Harsh kisses, punishing kisses, and I can't help but moan and push my body into his.

Fuck this feels good. But it's not enough. I struggle to get my arms free, want to touch more of him, feel the warmth of that familiar skin. Reluctantly, he slides his arms down until they come to rest on my hips. His grip on me remains firm, I'm sure I'll have bruises tomorrow, but somehow that seems only right. I use my now free hands to roam every part of his body I can reach. The slight stubble on his jaw, his square shoulders, the soft, smooth skin of his belly, the coarse little hairs scattered all over his body, the curve of his perfect arse… I can't get enough of it, of _him_.

He snarls at me as I shove at his shoulders, making him fall flat on his back, but the allows me to move up and straddle his hips anyway. He stretches out his legs and pushes himself up on his elbows. I bend down and attack his exposed shoulder and neck with my lips, tongue and teeth. He hisses at one of my harsher bites.

As if by mutual agreement, we don't speak. Our panting breaths, combined with sporadic groans and grunts, are the only sounds in the room. My fingers rake through the hairs on his chest and I watch my hands as I follow the trail down until I brush my hand against his straining cock. I laugh hoarsely as he bites his lip to stifle a moan. _Yes_, I think and _now_.

I place one hand on his shoulders and use the other to take his cock in a firm grip. As I start pulling in quick, urgent movements, he arches up off the sofa and moans under my hands. I enjoy this moment of dominance and clamp my knees firmly around his hips, trying to stop him from flipping us over. To no avail of course, because he has me on my back with embarrassingly little effort. I forget to resent him for it when he makes a grab for my cock with one hand and uses the other to squeeze my arse. Fuck that feels good. I've missed this, _him_, so much…

There's an urgency to our movements. Nothing about this is slow, this is going to be quick, rough, perfect. My chest is heaving from my labouring breaths, my heart thumping loudly and impossibly fast. He looks down on me, his eyes burning with an almost destructive desire. I shiver in anticipation, holding my breath, waiting for him to make the next move.

The hand on my cock stills. He keeps looking at me as he pauses and then slides the hand up until it comes to rest in the middle of my chest. I stare up at him unblinkingly, captivated by the sight of him raising his other hand to his lips. He hesitates for a moment before he sucks in two fingers and wets them. I swallow convulsively. Wordlessly, I spread my legs for him and raise my knees.

His lips curl up slightly into a small, almost cruel smile. Again I shiver, realising how very vulnerable I am right now, basically allowing him to do with me whatever he pleases. This should _not_ turn me on. But my stifled moan and leaking cock betray that yes actually, it does. And he knows it.

'Syed. Sy…'

The sudden break of silence startles me.

'Yes?' I answer, sounding rather breathless.

'You want this?' he asks.

His eyes are locked on mine, unwavering, relentless. I nod.

He closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his head. A cold dread trickles down my spine. Surely he wouldn't…

'I need you to say it,' he says, his voice hoarse, his eyes back on mine.

There's no doubt in my mind. Not even an inkling of hesitation. So I say it.

'Yes,' I confirm. 'I want this. Want you. Now. _Please_…'

After that, it all happens fast. There's an urgency to our movements, an impatience that won't be denied. When he enters me, it's too soon, too fast, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It hurts, fuck it hurts, but I don't care. The pain will fade soon enough, and I can already feel the intense pleasure mixed in with the pain.

Somehow, I end up on my knees with Christian behind me. I use my arms to steady myself, Christian thrusting into me with such force that I need to hold on to the back of the sofa for support. We move together fluidly, so used to each other even after what feels like an eternity of being apart. One of his hands is on my hip while the other is stroking me to a quick climax. This is going to be quick and dirty, and we both know it.

The pleasure builds up inside of me with irresistible speed. I can't hold back, won't hold back. Instead, I give myself up to him, to us, and just _feel_. As I tumble over the edge I shout out his name repeatedly. Christian follows only moments later. I can feel him tense behind me, thrust into me a couple of times more and then drape himself over my back, body still twitching while he rides the wave of his orgasm. We collapse together, our bodies sweaty and both of us struggling to recapture our breath.

It's hard to breathe with him on top of me, so I give him a little nudge. He resists for a moment, using his full weight to keep me in place. But at my strangled protest he eases up a bit and pulls away from me. Even though that's what I wanted, what I asked for, I instantly miss his warmth, the feeling of his body against mine. I grasp his hand, stopping him from moving too far away.

The look he gives me is heavy with questions. But there's only one question he asks me out loud.

'Come to bed?'

I know what he's asking. _Are you going to stay? Can we just be together for now and not think about anything else?_

The choice is easy. I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing, but right now Christian is within my grasp and I absolutely _refuse_ to let him go. Not yet. _Please God, not yet…_

'How about a shower?' I suggest.

Straight away, I know that's the wrong thing to say. Christian's eyes cloud over in disappointment and he starts backing away from me.

I could kick myself for my own stupidity. That's what I used to do, wasn't it. Sneak out of his bed in the early hours of the morning, take a quick shower and leave.

'A shower first I mean,' I clarify hurriedly. 'First shower, then bed'.

A careful smile curls around his lips.

'Alright,' he says.

I smile back at him and let him pull me up and lead me toward the bathroom.

**~s~c~**

**Reviews very much welcome!**


	44. Chapter 44

**So here we are, in honour of Chryed Con, a new chapter of BTTB from me! It's from Syed's POV and it's "perfect moment" time.**

**Have you watched that clip lately? If you haven't you really should. It made me remember "real Chryed" and forget about the rubbish spoilers we've had. I highly recommend it :)**

**~s~c~**

'_Hope you get what you wish for_'.

How can such simple words be so utterly devastating?

The sound of people talking around the table dulls to a constant static in my ears as I read his message on my phone over and over again. I think what bothers me most, is that I know he actually means it.

All day I've been wracking my brain over what to do. Driving myself crazy trying to figure out how to make sense of my conflicting emotions.

I know exactly what I want. I want to be the perfect son. I want to be a husband, want to have a family of my own. I want to be successful, someone to be proud of, to be respected. I want all of these things so much. But when it comes to wanting _him_… It doesn't even compare.

I want him in that moment just before I drift off into sleep. I want him when something good happens, want to share it with him, celebrate with him. I want him when I get some precious time to myself, unfailingly using that time to think about him. I want him in _those_ moments and every single moment in between.

So what is it that I wish for? The list seems endless. It's confusing and frustrating beyond belief. But in the end, there's one thing I know for sure. And that's that Christian is at the very top of that list.

'_Either be with me… or leave me alone_'.

That's what he said to me when I left this morning. Did he mean it? I'm not sure. And if he does, what will I do?

I have to find out. I have to…

'Babe, is everything alright?' Amira interrupts my thoughts.

Well no actually, it's not. But that's not what I say.

'Uhm yeah, it's from Mrs Patel,' I improvise quickly.

Everyone groans, because they know what that means. Or they know it means I'll be leaving anyway.

'She says there's a gas leak in the area and she wants me to go and let the gas man in?' I expand.

'Why can't she do it herself?' Amira asks, looking very annoyed.

'She's not around,' I answer.

'Well get Christian to sort it out,' Amira suggests.

Luckily, Mum intervenes. Dad tries and stop her, but to no avail. Within seconds, I'm out the door.

I head over to the flat, knowing Christian is inside, working hard to make it perfect for me and my wife. Almost there, I pause. What exactly am I doing? Surely I need a clear head, should think about what I'm going to say, what I'll do…

I close my eyes and take a deep, shivering breath. I can't do this. Can't. it's not fair, not fair on anyone. I haven't made my decision yet, I know I haven't.

It's not as if I haven't tried. God, how I've tried… I thought I'd made my choice back on New Year's Day and I've tried so hard to stick with it. Turns out that you can't really choose to be something, or someone, that you're not.

I've been praying all day, but still I have no answers. Or no rational ones at least. Because the very fact that I'm standing here, staring at this stupid blue door, seems to indicate I've made some sort of decision.

I'm startled by someone shouting a greeting from across the street. I look up and see a man I vaguely recognise as a client we catered a wedding for last month. I raise my hand in some sort of acknowledgement. Fuck, what am I doing? I can't be standing here, staring at a door like this. People will notice, they will think… Actually I have no idea what they'll think. But I do know I can't be here. Quickly, I walk away.

I'm so lost in thought that I find myself in a part of London I've never been before with no memory of how exactly I got there. Fuck this is bad. I have no idea what I'm doing, am no closer to any kind of resolution.

The maelstrom of thoughts whirling around in my head is slowly driving me insane. I keep coming back to "can't" and "have to" over and over again. They're not even fully formed sentences by now, just repetitive thoughts of obligations and appearances that weigh me down like a ton of bricks.

Yet my feet keep on moving. Because through all those jumbled, messy, incoherent thoughts, a desperate _need_ is what keeps me going. Christian, it always comes back to Christian. It doesn't seem to matter that I can't. Can't be gay, can't be in love with someone other than my wife, can't want someone, can't _need_ someone like I need oxygen to breathe. Because the simple fact of the matter is, that I do.

I _do_ need him, want him, _love_ him, with an intensity that is frightening. And for some reason, I can't seem to think beyond that one plain fact. Can't think about the consequences, can't think about what it all _means_, or what I'll do next. All I can think about is finding my way back to him as quickly as possible and worry about everything else… later.

I look around me to try and find my bearings. I still don't recognise anything around me and have no idea where I am. It's dark out, when did it get dark? And how long have I been walking around here anyway? God I feel lost.

But then I spot it. A tube station, just over the road. Relieved, I make my way over and descend the flight of stairs. It only takes about ten minutes and one transfer until I emerge from Walford tube station, my feet carrying me back to that blue door without any conscious thought.

Now what? I mean, nothing has changed exactly, now has it.

'_Either be with me… or leave me alone_'.

The words sound like a mantra by now, repeating themselves endlessly but losing none of their meaning.

I'm not ready. My heart is and so is my body, but my head… God my head is a mess right now. I can't go to him like this. It isn't fair. I want to, I want to so fucking badly, but I simply can't do it to him.

This is so hard. I feel the tears brimming in my eyes as I stand here in indecision. I can't go in. But I can't walk away either.

Suddenly, the blue door opens and Christian comes out. And that is when I know there is no escape. No getting away from this, from him, not anymore. It doesn't matter that common sense tells me I should get the hell out of there, shouldn't even have been here in the first place. I know that. I do. But the reason I won't leave is shockingly simple. It's because I don't want to.

When he looks up and notices me, I hold my breath. He walks up to me, looking at me, but doesn't say a word.

'I just wanted to check you were alright,' I blurt out. Because I needed something to say and apparently, this is all I can come up with.

'I'm fine,' he says. 'Shouldn't you be at your birthday meal?'

'Can we talk?' I plead with him, avoiding the question.

'Have you made your mind up?' he asks.

He doesn't wait for an answer. I squirm under his scrutinising look, and he _knows_.

He scoffs and says: 'Then there's nothing to talk about'.

He turns on his heels and starts walking away. I can't bear it.

'Please,' I say, softly.

My heart thuds as he stops, hesitates for a moment and then turns back to look at me.

'Well?' he asks.

I give an awkward cough and try and stall for time. What am I meant to say?

'Not out here,' I finally say.

And then I look at him. A long, lingering look full of everything I'm incapable of saying. Full of what I want, what I need, what I can't wait a moment more for him to give to me. I don't care if it's selfish. I don't care if it's self-destructive. All I care about is that soon enough, he's right behind me, following me up to the empty flat.

'Ok,' he says, as soon as he closes the door behind us and we're alone in the flat, 'we're here now. So talk'.

He looks at me with unforgiving eyes that scare me. Right now, I'm sure he meant those words.

'_Either be with me… or leave me alone_'.

I walk over to the window to escape those eyes, push the curtain aside and look down at the shadows wandering on the street below. I'm drowning and I don't know what to do. A very persistent voice in my head is almost screaming at me to walk away, walk away _now_. But my feet simply refuse to move.

'I stayed away from your birthday dinner because I thought that's what you wanted', he says.

'I don't know what I want,' is all I can say to that.

'Maybe it's time you did,' he replies.

There's a pause and then he says: 'I didn't even know it was your birthday'.

Grateful for the respite, I step away from the window and talk to him, argue with him about insignificant stuff. Not about what I want. Not about why I'm here. Why I can't leave.

I talk to him about my Dad, and how he gave me his Qur'an. How he told me he's proud of me, today of all days. I talk and talk, trying to accomplish I don't know what. For him to understand. To tell me it doesn't matter, none of it does. Or perhaps I'm waiting for him to run out of patience and try and force me to leave.

But he doesn't. And I'm running out of options fast.

'I know you want me,' I say, needing him to acknowledge that he does.

'Not like this'.

The words are like a sharp blow. So he _did_ mean it. All or nothing. Desperately, I ignore the interruption and continue as if he hadn't spoken.

'But I'm a married man. There are expectations. I have a responsibility to my wife, to my family, to my faith…'

'And to yourself?' he interrupts me.

Again I ignore him.

'That's who I am! Son, brother, husband, Muslim'.

I'm almost shouting now. I'm fighting, fighting so hard, but I don't know against what. What I really want to do is just give in. I'm so tired. So very tired of all of this. Of having him right in front of me and not being able to… God I hate this.

'And you're also a man,' he counters, stepping in close. 'A living, breathing, mass of blood. Tissue. Feelings…'

The mere mention of feelings, mine, his, combined with his proximity, does me in. I suck in my breath and allow myself to lean forward and finally, finally kiss him. Straight away I know I was right. He _is_ my oxygen, I can feel my blood literally filling with it as we share a desperate kiss.

It physically hurts me to tear myself away from him. But I manage to do it eventually.

'I can't… I can't do this. I've made my choice,' I say.

But he doesn't relent for a moment.

'No, Zainab made your choice for you,' he reminds me.

And that's true. I couldn't make the choice then and I can't make it now.

'I've… got to go,' I stammer.

But I don't move an inch. I silently beg him to stop me, to ask me to stay, to…

'Then go,' is all he says.

I don't. He knew I wouldn't. I knew I wouldn't. Instead, I just stand there and look at him, helplessly.

He smiles. A soft, tender smile that almost breaks me.

'Come here,' he whispers.

I let out an uncontrolled noise that sounds more like a sob than anything else. In the end, the choice is easy. What I want is right in front of me. So I reach out and grab it. With both hands.

Within the space of a heartbeat, I'm in his arms. He curls his arms protectively around me and instantly I feel safe, protected. I slip my hands around his waist and rest my head against his chest. The sound of his steady heartbeat calms me, soothes me. I made the right choice. There was never a choice really. This is where I belong. I feel it with such certainty that I can't help but smile.

'Are you staying?' he asks me.

I love the way I can both feel and hear his voice resonate in his chest.

'Yes,' I answer him, softly at first, but then with more force as I repeat it: 'Yes'.

'Good'.

I find there is no more that needs saying. Not right now. He strokes my hair, smoothing it down softly and presses a kiss on top of my head. I look up at him and he smiles.

'Good,' he says again.

Then he starts to press soft kisses all over my face. His lips brush my cheek, my jawline, my eyelids, the tip of my nose… He doesn't miss a single spot. I've never felt this cherished, this warm, this secure. The feeling is intoxicating.

When his mouth finally connects with mine in a deep, languid kiss, my knees buckle beneath me. He doesn't try to hold me up. Instead, he lowers me gently down to the floor. I lay on my back and look at him as he lays down beside me.

We've both lost our jackets by now, can't say I know when or how. It doesn't matter. I feel like I'm in a dream. A very good dream. He pushes up my shirt like he's unwrapping me, carefully, slowly. My breath comes in small gasps as he traces first his fingers, followed closely by his lips, over my now exposed chest.

Vaguely it occurs to me that I should reciprocate in some way, not just lay back like this and let him do all the work. I reach out to him, but he eases my arms back down beside me and presses another kiss on my lips.

A pleasantly lethargic feeling takes hold of me and I decide to let it. I shiver as he kisses his way down my chest and his fingers fumble with my jeans. He slips his hand into my pants and I moan his name at the delicious sensation.

'Christian'.

He looks up at me and smirks.

'I'm right here,' he says.

I nod slowly, trying to hold myself back as he starts stroking my cock in torturously lazy movements.

'I am too,' I say, urgently, trying to make him understand. Understand that I choose this, choose _him_. That I'm right here with him.

His smirk softens and his eyes turn serious.

'I know,' he says softly, before leaning in and capturing my lips in another breath-taking kiss. 'I know,' he repeats between kisses, over and over again.

All I can do now is feel. I feel his hands on me, his lips and tongue capturing my mouth, conquering me. I can't get enough. I can never get enough.

It's like I'm in a daze. I buck my hips up desperately, pushing myself into his hand. The kiss turns more heated now and I'm forced to break away every now and then to gulp some air. I can feel his erection press against my hip. I want to reach out to him, touch him like he's touching me, but I'm gripped by my orgasm before I get the chance. It rips through me with undeniable force, my body arching up from the floor and then flattening back down and leaving me in a panting, dishevelled state.

It takes me a while to come back to myself. What just happened was so intense, so intimate, perfect… As my breath and heartbeat calm down, I feel him gently smoothing my shirt back into place and buttoning up my jeans. I blink and look at him. He looks so beautiful, so strong. Like everything I'll ever want or need.

He strokes my hair and rubs his thumb over my bottom lip.

'Hey,' he says, like he's welcoming me back to earth.

Seems kind of fitting really. That's the last thing I remember thinking before he kisses me and I let myself sink into it.

**~s~c~**

**Review? Why yes please :D**


	45. Chapter 45

**Here you go. In honour of the fun going on right now at WFCTGIO a new chapter at last!**

**It's after Perfect Moment time... This is from Christian's POV. Hope you enjoy :) x**

* * *

'Was that my Dad?' he asks quietly.

He doesn't shout, nowhere near. But I can hear the fear in his voice, fear that will soon turn into full-blown panic.

'I don't think he saw you,' I say. Because I can't say it wasn't Masood. I know it was. And I'm pretty sure he recognised me. He might not have seen it was Syed with me though. Maybe. Possibly.

I mean, surely he would have said something? Wouldn't he? God, I don't know. But it's no time for me to analyse what I'm thinking or feeling right now. Sy is in a right state.

I sit up and rake a hand through my hair. My heart is pounding, I can't believe this is happening. Syed is already scrambling up from the floor, shrugging on his jacket and rushing to the door.

'Why didn't you lock the door?' he asks me.

I don't appreciate the hint of accusation in his voice. Like this is _my_ fault. Like I wanted this to happen. _Well, didn't you?_ a quiet but insistent voice challenges me inside my own head. I ignore it as best I can.

'I thought _you_ did,' is all I say in reply.

'What if it was him? What if he saw us?' he says.

_So what if he has?_ I want to retort. But I don't. Because it's blatantly obvious he won't thank me for it.

'If he'd seen us, he'd have said something,' I answer. If I sound short, well, he'll just have to deal with it. Because this awful feeling is gnawing at my gut, this feeling of how I've been here before. That once again, everything is the same. That no matter what we'd just shared, he'll still deny me.

'Maybe… he didn't see it was me,' he says cautiously. Like he doesn't dare believe it.

'Exactly,' I agree with him.

'But if he _did_ see me… he'll kill me,' he says.

And that's what does it. I let go of my resentment, let go of my feelings of hurt. Because as hard as it is for me to find myself in this position once again, I know it's harder for him. He really believes his life will be over if everyone found out about him. About us. And didn't I feel the same once? Haven't I seen countless men and women who have all gone through the same thing? I _know_ how hard this is, and with him being Muslim… If he needs more time, well, I'll just have to cope with that. And be there for him when he finally decides to make the leap. Because he will. I have to believe that he will.

I take a deep breath and steady myself. I can give him some more time. I can. But not much. I feel like I'm about to snap. _Just a little while longer_, I tell myself. And I try to believe it.

'Look, why don't you just stay here,' I suggest, as gently as I can.

'No, I need to know,' he responds.

'Then I'm coming with you,' I say instantly. I'm not going to let him go through this on his own.

'No look… please just… go home. I'll call you,' he implores.

He turns to walk away from me, and all I can think is _no_. He's not going to shut me out, I won't let him. Not now. Not again. I grab his arm to stop him and say: 'If he did see you. Maybe it's time to come clean'.

He doesn't answer me. Not really. He just looks at me and repeats: 'I'll call you'.

I can feel him slipping away from me. He gives me one of those lingering looks, those looks that tell me all about how he loves me, needs me, cares for me. But then he leaves. Just like he always does.

He's gone. I let my head fall back and sigh.

**~c~s~**

'Finally'.

One word. It's all I can say, after I've been waiting for God knows how long for him to fucking finally call me. It feels like forever since he walked away from me, but it can't be more than an hour or so.

'Yeah I know, I'm sorry I couldn't get back to you before,' he says, sounding apologetic.

I tried to be patient, tried to wait for him to call me as he promised he would. I held out longer than I thought I was capable of in fact. But after lots of pacing up and down the flat, flicking obsessively from channel to channel on my TV, having a drink and then another, I caved. I texted him, asking him the one thing I absolutely need to know. The one thing I ask him now, now that he's finally called me.

'What's going on? Talk to me Syed', I say.

'No no no, it's ok', he answers.

He sounds terse, distracted. I can't help resenting him for that, when _he_ is all _I_ can think about.

'So you told him', I state while pouring myself another shot of whiskey. Because he hasn't. I know he hasn't. I know him too well.

'No. He saw you, but not me', he confirms my suspicions.

I don't respond. Because what is there to say, really?

'Christian…'

'So nothing has changed', I conclude. I head over to the sofa and sit down. I knew this was how it was going to be. Knew Syed wouldn't tell if he wasn't forced to. I have no right to feel this disappointed. But I do.

'The important thing is it buys us some more time', he says. He sounds rushed, absent almost.

'Yeah yeah', I respond, 'That's the important thing'.

My sarcasm is completely lost on him. I empty my drink in one big gulp. God I hate this. I want to take hold of his shoulders and bloody well _shake_ some sense into him. Or into me. I can't believe I keep doing this to myself…

'Look I should go', he says.

'Don't shut me out like this Sy', I warn him.

'I'll call you when I can', is his only response.

'Syed', I try, 'Sy…'

But I know he's gone. He's hung up, gone back to them. A one minute phone call is as much as I'm going to get from him apparently.

Fuck this. Fuck _Syed_. I slam my hand down on the coffee table in frustration. It doesn't help. I stalk back to the kitchen, fill up my glass and gulp it down. Doesn't help either.

Sighing, I let my head droop down in defeat. I feel so powerless, my life so utterly dependent on what everyone _else_ is going to do. And I hate it. I really don't think I can live like this much longer. But that's all it seems to be taking. _Longer_.

Syed doesn't want things to change. I know that. But it still fucking hurts. I don't think he realises how much. Or no, to be fair, I know he doesn't, not really. He's far too wrapped up in his own troubles, his own deceit, to realise how much of a toll this is taking on me.

I should tell him to stop. Tell him to go away, leave me alone.

But we've been there before, haven't we. And as bad as I feel now, it's nothing compared to how I'll feel without him. I groan aloud before taking a deep breath. This is so fucked up…

I have a terrible night. I lay awake most of it, tossing and turning, cursing at myself, my life, him… And when I finally do fall asleep, I dream about us. About being with him, _really_ with him. Kissing in public, not apologising, no Amira, no Masoods, nothing but _us_.

It's wonderful. And then I wake up.

I hate this.

I wonder what he's doing right now. If he's sound asleep, peaceful in the knowledge that he's safe and nothing has to change. If he's cuddled up with his wife. If he's imagining that it's _me_ instead. Over and over again I keep tormenting myself with these kind of thoughts until I finally drift off to sleep again in the early hours of the morning.

**~c~s~**

When I catch up with him the next day, he's just headed out the door with a food order.

'I'll walk with you', I offer, keeping pace beside him.

'It's just across the road,' he says, but he smiles and walks with me.

'So, what's up with your Dad?' I ask.

He sighs and looks troubled.

'I don't know,' he says. 'I don't think he knows it was me. He would have said something, surely'.

I give a non-committal grunt in reply.

Sy continues: 'He _is_ being weird. Dad's not convinced…'

Here we go again. Suddenly, I've had enough. I don't care how difficult this is for him, don't care what a massive deal this is for him. I'm fed up.

'You know what', I interrupt him, 'let's just knock it on the head'.

That seems to stop him in his tracks. He looks at me, hesitating, unsure.

'Well what?' I continue, ' Do you think you're the only person to imagine no more lying, leaving, coming back again like some demented yoyo'.

He snorts at the demented yoyo remark which frustrates me further.

'No', I go on as I start walking again. 'Cause I'm the idiot doing it. Ducking round your family one more time…'

'Yeah, I know. But…' he tries to interrupt me, to comfort me I think. But I'm having none of it.

'If it is too much like hard work Sy… just say the word'.

There, I've said it.

He doesn't talk, just follows me to Mrs Nasiri's house where we drop off the food. I smile at her, joke with her, like everything's normal. Syed on the other hand is quiet, doesn't say more than he absolutely has to.

When she heads back into her house, I turn to Syed and say: 'I think it's best if I go now. I'll talk to you later, yeah?'

I don't pretend that I'm alright. I don't think I have the energy left to try it if I wanted to.

He looks at me, shakes his head and beckons me to follow him round the corner. And I do, I always do. He leads me to a deserted part of the street, I can hear the noises from the bustling market, a car starting, normal street noise for this time of day. But right here, right now, there isn't anyone around.

He startles me as he grabs my hand, squeezes it and whispers: 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry, really I am'.

He lets go of my hand in the next moment and starts walking again.

'I know,' I admit.

I stop to lean against the wall and sigh heavily. I'm so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of not being with him, tired of having this conversation all over again.

'Look you know… how I feel', he says, sounding cautious.

And when I look into his eyes, I _do_ know. I can see it, his love for me, the guilt, the confusion… And I realise that he's tired too. Neither of us can let the other one go. In truth, I simply don't want to. And I don't think he does either. I think that's what makes me give in.

'Ok, I'll talk to your Dad, make sure he buys this whole…', I grudgingly concede.

'Oh brilliant, I can't wait to hear that really natural conversation', he mutters morosely.

'Will you stop moaning you old Quentin!' I scold him. 'I know it's not perfect'.

He looks at me, taken aback.

'Did you just call me… and old Quentin?' he tries.

Suddenly I can't do anything but laugh at the silliness of it all.

'What, and now you're laughing?' he asks. I think he's going for indignant, but I can see that he's smiling too.

Thankful for the moment of relief, I relax a little. It's good to realise that it's still him, it's still me, us. And that's all that really matters.

'As long as me and you are honest', I say, fully serious again now.' We'll be alright. It can't stay like this forever'.

'Honestly?' he asks me.

And that's when I see it. He _doesn't_ want things to stay like this forever. He _does_ want to be with me, really _with_ me. He just doesn't know how.

'Honestly,' I promise him.

He gives me a weak smile before he turns and walks away from me.

**~c~s~**


End file.
